Black Ice
by E.J. Cady
Summary: When David Warner calls in a debt, he expects it to be paid. Jo is paying. Rated M for sexual content, violence and language. Blair/Jo pairing. This is a repost of the original fic in multi-chapter format.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Facts of Life and its characters are the property of Columbia Pictures Television and Sony Pictures Television, no infringement intended.

**CHAPTER ONE**

Lorraine Bell was in her early forties. No children and a husband to survive her when he finally beat her to death. She was a legal aid seduced by a sweet talking cop with brass balls and hair like James Dean. Twelve years later, still in the profession of writing binding contracts her husband's James Dean hair thinned out visibly balding.

Detective Jo Polniaczek watched two uniforms be charmed by their fellow boy in blue. They were laughing on the porch and offered beers they declined. The senior officer, Mitch Bell, knew better to even offer. After the brief rapport and assurances to keep the noise down the uniforms drove off. Jo made a conscious decision not to bring her weapon with her. The smiles were genuinely indifferent to the victim inside. They'd been there for a fifteen minutes and were already leaving without having been inside. And if a gun had been in Jo's reach she would have been tempted to release some tension using it.

They walked away at the word of the attacker while blood still stained his fist. She wasn't any better standing across the street in the shadows watching. When she first met Bell she was naïve. A streetwise kid from the Bronx could be naïve. For several reasons involving her teenage years at a school with certain roommates had lowered her guard.

She remembered her and her partner at the time had been given a disturbance of the peace call. She eased the victim down to sit and talk, but she was too frightened to say a word. Jo had been so concerned because by the woman's fragile state she hadn't noticed the family photos littered about the yellow den. The interview was cut short by what she thought was cavalry at the time. She was given a pat on her back for a good job by her partner and the husband donning his badge with a shit eating grin. Recognition washed over her and then rage. It was her career or this woman, she chose her career. With too much to prove at the time she turned a blind eye eventually forgetting as time passed. Five years later she crossed paths with a weeping Lorraine in a bathroom at a cop barbecue.

Incredibly helpless even as she was surrounded by cops who'd sworn an oath to protect and serve. There were no comforting words. Just a look of sympathy and she walked away.

Jo usually stayed for another half hour when everything was quiet. Bell would leave her alone to lick her wounds. If he hadn't already an apology was coming. It would sound nice just like all the others Lorraine heard, but it wouldn't be sincere or permanent.

Randall Weller sized up the smiling women he sat across from. The actress and the reporter, they were both easy on the eyes, but they couldn't compete with his arm candy. Blair had insisted he meet her 'other family' over a dinner Blair prepared. He was surprised by the invitation to intrude on the infamous girl's night out, but he jumped at the chance.

Blair's beauty rivaled her brain; she knew what she wanted and went after it. He knew modern men that were fine with allowing their women to be more aggressive. He didn't consider himself one of them. The perk of being on the arm of Blair Warner was only surpassed by her last name and both made up for her other faults.

They had all convened to a round dinner table Natalie and Tootie talking conspiratorially like teenagers sharing gossip. Blair watched them endearingly, her arm wrapped around her new beau.

Natalie was a reporter for the Times. She was stuck on the finance circuit hungry for something grittier as she liked to say. Dorothy was an actress he recognized in a save the arts commercial and made for TV movies.

"I think all this girl talk is boring Randall," Dorothy pointed out.

Randall shrugged his shoulders, "not at all. Forgive me but I grew up with the idea that women traded _compliments_ to insult each other. It's an adjustment."

"Oh, sounds like our Eastland days," Blair glowed with nostalgia.

Natalie smirked, "oh yea," she continued, "That was the only full contact sport Blair considered civilized enough to play."

Randall smiled curiously, "full contact?"

Tootie stepped in lightly shoving her best friend, "it's not as hands on as Nat makes it sound."

"Nothing like girl on girl action mind you," Natalie explained, she ignored the two glares focused on the only face eating this up. She enjoyed attentive listeners. "I meant metaphorically. Girls never walk the same after one round with Blair."

"Natalie you make it sound as if I were some school yard bully," she pointed out incredulously.

Randall felt left out with the knowing look each woman exchanged. The feeling grew even more when they burst out laughing. He smiled appropriately confused.

Randall, as the minority, spent most of his time observing as it was hard to get a word in. The night for the most part became the Tootie and Natalie show. When the two of them were together, it was as if the last few years of adulthood were the dream and they were back in school. Blair delighted in the proverbial blast from the past. It made resenting the absence of a certain Bronx native easier. It would also prompt a visit from a very vexed former roommate.

She walked Tootie and Natalie to the door promising them a lunch later in the week. She wouldn't interrogate them about how they felt about her 'friend' just yet. Closing the door behind the duo she returned to see Randall waiting for her on the couch her friends had vacated.

"Thank you."

She curved her head curiously at the statement.

"For this," he motioned around the absent room, "the whole evening," he explained. He rose easily from the couch and headed over to where she stood only half inside the room. He closed the inordinately large gap to mere inches.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself Nat and Tootie can be a handful," she smiled endearingly. Her friends were an extension of a side of Blair very few people were privileged to glimpse. Randall had been a kind, intelligent, and smart addition the exclusive group of people she considered friends. They spent a lot of time together. They could talk about poetry, art, books, and business. Blair hadn't realized how much she enjoyed talking about those things until she actually had someone to.

The evening held a lot of expectations for them. Randall wanted to mature their physical relationship. She wanted to take her time. It was so long since had played the game, but she fell in step quick enough. Like riding a bike, she smiled at the adage until she realized her smile may have been misread by her companion. His eyes darkened and all it took was a step and a lean and his lips would be on hers.

"Well that was delicious!" Natalie yelled unnecessarily to the rest of the occupants as she came back inside.

Randall stepped away. Blair smirked at the shadow of aggravation over his normally glowing face. She turned her head slightly, "you turning in?" she asked Natalie before she headed down the hall to her room.

"Yea," she exaggerated her show of fatigue.

"Goodnight," Randall nodded, "I should be going," he volunteered collecting his things when Natalie returned the congeniality and headed to her room.

She knew all she had to do was object and he would stay. They spent some nights together. Nothing went beyond kissing and him holding her. Although his darkened looks of lust were becoming frequent reminders of the consequence of her proximity. She never feared he would be anything more than a gentleman. Though she didn't want to be the object of resentment, she cared for him. If things were different she would have asked him to stay and given in the way he wished. If things were different she would have been eagerly courted, engaged, and negotiating an amicable seating list for the reception to their wedding.

He took her in his arms holding her close to him. He ducked his head to plant a chaste but gentle kiss on her cheek. "You charm me with your company, I initiate intimacy, and you pull the roommate card," he kept his tone playful.

Blair pulled back, "Randall…"

He interrupted her with a kiss. She responded to it only to pull back all too soon. A hand brushed up against her face. His eyes were closed, too transfixed with sensations, which eyes would dull with the reality of his situation. He had fallen for an unattainable woman that loved him to an extent. Efforts like tonight, where she shared more of herself, gave him hope. Like a double edged sword he knew after her contribution she would withdraw.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening Miss Warner," he whispered. He pulled her with him as he walked to the door and in a moments goodbye he was gone. She frowned truthfully wishing that things were different.

**AN: **This wasn't originally a multi-chapter story I just divided it up that way to make it easier to read. Also there isn't really any purpose in the way each chapter is split up and note that the scenes in the story often changes suddenly.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Teodor's Garage was closed on Wednesdays. The owner had allotted this day for the past four years to spend the day with his wife. Parts from the insides of two cars and a bike were placed neatly in a system that made sense only to the mechanic who put them there. White sneakers walked across the concrete sea stained with ripples of grease and oil. The office door opposite the garage opening was cracked open. Tootie knew Jo was there long before she heard the snoring. So it didn't surprise her to see her friend spread across a plaid couch. She looked to be the same clothes she may have worn the day before.

A stream of slob made a hot dog shaped puddle. Leaning against the wooden frame her mouth warred with disgust and humor at the thick drool. She'd made it a point to bother Jo on her off days when she couldn't use work as an excuse to ignore her friends. It was on a similar occasion of intrusion, at Jo's apartment, she discovered Jo was on leave without pay from the force. Long story short as Jo's partner had offered, the guy bumped into the wall too many times in Jo's care for the higher ups to ignore the concussion he sustained. Jo swore her to secrecy when she found out.

Tootie had taken a concerned interest in her ever since she heard about Jo's suspension. Natalie and Blair were oblivious because for once in her life Tootie had kept a secret. The department was tight lipped about the whole incident, which only made her worry. Jo wasn't offering an explanation even after three months.

The brunette used the time off to work at a family friend's garage. She knew her uncle Sal wouldn't mind the help. Teodor or his employees wouldn't ask her questions she didn't want to answer. That seemed to be the best incentive to work for the older mechanic. Glimpses of Jo before Eastland bothered the actress. Groans coming from the mechanic's direction pulled Tootie back to the present. In mid groan Jo stretched out of her sleep. Her head rolled to the left with her eyes barely open until she was startled surprise noticing her visitor. She jerked from the couch losing her balance to fall with a thud. She groaned and Tootie replied with a giggle.

"Where'd you come from?" Jo glared.

"The front door," she thumbed in the direction she came.

"Breaking and entering Tootie," the words came out as more of a whine than intended.

The actress jingled keys.

"Why?" Jo groaned from the floor. Jo had made a copy that only Tootie and she knew about. The keys were permission to intrude in Jo's life. Despite how annoying the younger woman could be, she liked the reminder that she was cared about.

The dark skinned woman leaned over her, "I called you all week."

"I thought you would take the hint when I ignored you all week."

"You don't have to go out of your way for me to know you're a jerk," Tootie countered.

Jo glared up at her youngest friend. Lifting herself up from the floor she rested her bottom back on the couch.

"O yea…" Tootie looked past Jo's sarcasm. She took it for what it was, Jo being Jo.

"I've got this reshoot for my show this afternoon. You're coming with." Jo had leaned back into the couch yawning. "It's good for you to interact with things that don't just go vroom vroom you know."

"Sometimes we mix it up around here with beep beep," she defended through her yawn.

Jo could have remained obstinate until Tootie gave up. J o knew from experience the woman wouldn't be thwarted that easily. Sighing into her hands she stood to stretch. Jo headed in the back room. It served as her home away from home. Teodor, the owner, and his wife had had a rough patch some years ago and he renovated the back to a livable space. He used it for a four months until they reconciled. Teodor offered the room's history when he offered the place to Jo after finding her behind wheel of a Buick. She appreciated the gesture remembering the way her body ached after that night. She had trouble with the pull out bed so she always ended just sleeping on the couch.

The older woman washed herself off. She sniffed the clothes she wore to make sure there wasn't an odor. The Laundromat was on her list of places to visit, fortunately the clothes she picked out today were decent enough to be seen out in public with.

A glimmer of curiosity in Tootie's eyes greeted her when she returned to the office.

"What?"

"You're not taking very good of yourself Jo."

The brunette shrugged her shoulders. Their careers didn't afford them the luxury of seeing each other as often as they use to. Other responsibilities, friends, interests took a toll on their friendship.

It was easy for the brunette to get stuck inside her own head. That was the worst place for her to be by herself. Jo knew she was tired of her own inner struggle. She didn't want anyone inside her head to see how close she was giving into the side of her Eastland had tamed.

The soap opera Dillinger's Whistle sounded like more of an old western stop shop to Jo. She sat quietly looking at the bustling set. It reminded her of the rhythmic havoc of every morning of everyday she shared one bathroom with four other women.

The show essentially centered on an apartment complex called Dillinger's Whistle. The owner was an old woman who plays matchmaker with her six tenants. Tootie played one of the victims of the owners meddling, a clothing store clerk slash night student. This episode was where she's conned into a date with the owner's nephew, who is allergic to everything.

Jo, never one to fall head over hills for some of the trash on television, admitted the antics were amusing to watch. The story lines were over the top, but it was a popular comedy that one of her best friends starred in. That was enough for her to find time to watch it. Tootie sauntered over to Jo ignoring the call of sweets the mechanic lounged beside.

"You staking out the food table Jo?"

A brow quirked at the younger woman and then the table, followed by a lackadaisical shrug, "that sandwich over there has been giving me a look." Jo's reply may have been noncommittal but the sandwich wouldn't stand a chance against the Polniaczek appetite.

"How's my favorite costar?" a short man with sandy blonde hair came up Tootie plucking a grape in his mouth.

"Hmm tired, but ready to be sneezed on," she quipped.

His eyes immediately went to the actor practicing different sneezes. Jo followed his gaze and cringed.

"What are you doing later a bunch of us are going for lunch," he queried.

"I already have plans with this one," she pointed to Jo.

He followed her gaze smiling politely. He had seen her with Dorothy before. The actress made friends with everyone Jo looked like a light tech. It wasn't strange to see them sitting down on the job.

"Why don't you two join us then the more the merrier," he added belatedly.

Jo looked at the way he eyed Tootie. From the moment the guy sidled up to her best friend she saw a change. "No thanks," she said permitting little room to be persuaded otherwise.

"Uh… ok," he nodded towards the two of them before he left with an uncertain smile.

Tootie watched him walk away before chuckling at her friend. Jo shrugged smiling in answer.

"Miss Ramsey, you're on in five," Tootie nodded to the intern with the brown clipboard.

"You and me dinner after this?" the actress queried.

"Just keep the bad friend barbs to a minimum and I might think about letting you feed me." The younger woman grasped her friend's arm reassuringly before she left with the intern wearing the headset.

The set was called silent as the scene started with a sneezing man walking in behind the actress playing the owner. Jo had to hold in her laughter. Tootie's facial expressions alone made her a comedic genius; few people had that effortlessness depending on their lines to get them by.

Jo didn't mind the behind the scenes look. Tootie hardly did theatre anymore. Seeing her live was a treat she didn't realize she had missed until now. Jo had been missing a lot lately. Caught up in her own fantasy of being a hero she left relationships untended. The dedication she gave to the job seemed in vain. Her badge could only do so much when people like March hid behind their power when victims resign to silence. What good was the oath if scumbags found a loop hole?

Charles March a thirty five year old mathematician had the money to back any project he desired. He used his genius to make a lucrative company that created computer programs for children. On the surface with his donations to non profits he looked as normal as any rich guy making a buck. The crack in his perfect world was his weakness for little girls. Unofficially the case was to handled with kid gloves. The mathematician was accommodating despite the heinous charges. Everyone was willing to let it go after a week of no solid evidence. The only thing that nagged Jo was the little girl Sophia Rodriguez, the groundkeeper's daughter.

The first time Jo saw her she was playing outside in the back by the bushes. She spoke quietly to her doll as if divulging secrets. The brunette remembered smiling at the innocence until Sophia's gaze met hers. Jo's stomach dropped and she knew. Something had been taken from this little girl. Every time Jo made an excuse to visit the house when she knew Sophia would be there she became attentive to her mannerisms. Her interaction or rather lack of interaction with March was very curious. It was even more peculiar when a handful of the staff mentioned offhandedly how fond March was of her. From what she had seen however March never acknowledged the girl. Each story had an instant where the speaker held a sad look in their eyes. Their eyes telling more than words ever could.

Looks and hunches or woman's intuition would just get her laughed out of her Captain's office and it had. Cases with kids were always hard. In her division there were very few cases with kid's they had to deal with, but her department was known for keeping things quiet. Their Captain was a political monkey, who specialized in discretion. Unofficially they were to investigate and find nothing and go on with their day. It didn't sit well with Jo, but she followed the rules. Playing by the book was something that had been engrained in her early enough to tame undomesticated proclivities.

She pushed her thoughts to focus on the present. It was a conscious effort to separate the two whenever she hung out with friends outside her brothers in blue. The occasions where she had hung out with her friends had become too far and between. Tootie was more hands-on, which usually ended with Jo being kidnapped like today. She was grateful to feel like the old Jo at least for a few hours. Natalie had become a workaholic desperately hanging onto the dream of becoming a world famous journalist. Blair was just as dedicated and a lot more complicated to be around.

Most of her morning and the beginning of her afternoon having been claimed by her talented friend, Jo made promises she wouldn't keep to stay in touch. Tootie just took the promises in stride already plotting to kidnap Jo as her plus one for a party being hosted by the Warner's. Of course by the time Jo found out there would be no time to recover without purposefully hurting Tootie's feelings. Despite Jo's change of behavior, there were some things that didn't change, and Tootie had more than enough faith in the taming powers of the Warner heiress.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Blair stared aimlessly at the belongings of her corner office. She designed the room with great care. There was color, but not enough to be the punch line of a joke whenever she entertained colleagues or guests. She congratulated herself on the balance of femininity and professionalism, an oxymoron in close minded circles.

Recruited by her father after she graduated she was given her place. Unfazed by the ease in which she earned it she worked long hours to build a reputation. The details of her job were to ensure the legality of commercial transactions. She was the legal mouth piece for Warner Industries, being formerly groomed to one day inherit all the responsibility her father now had.

"Miss Warner your mother on line one," her young assistant, Vesper, announced over the speaker.

Blair picked the phone up lazily wondering what her mother could want, last time she heard, she was in a quiet villa near the Mediterranean with her baby sister. "Hello darling," her mother bubbled from the other end.

"Hello mother."

"Darling how goes the life of a corporate lawyer?" she queried jovially.

Blair answered carefully. Even in at age twenty six her parents battled for her affections. To say the least Monica felt like she had lost a battle when Blair announced she accepted her father's job offer. Blair considered her a prize for any man, but to think that her parents shared the perception still stung on occasion.

They provided for her in every material way. They shaped her in their dual images. Fortunately there was a balance, with a bigger part of the quintessential Blair to keep the two personalities in check.

"I'm happy to hear that you're doing well dear," she offered never missing a beat, "I know that you have such a busy schedule, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind watching your sister for a while."

"Mother…," Blair warned, but her mother would not be deterred.

"Maxwell and I want to have some time to ourselves and Bailey does miss her big sister, you know how she adores you."

"Mother…."

"Just adores you darling, she reminds me so much of you when you were her age, it's charming to hear her attempt to pronounce Louis Vuitton."

"Mother I would love to," Blair conceded quickly. There were several versions of Blair's childhood, and she didn't need to be reminded of her mother's edited account.

"Wonderful darling wonderful I can have her on a flight within the hour." Blair visibly frowned when she heard the words.

They chatted idly about gossip, clothes, and relationships. By the end of it when Blair hung up, the ringing migraine that was her mother, still resounded in her head. She would have to compromise her schedule to spend time with Bailey; it would make her feel guilty if she hired a nanny for all of her sister's stay. However the visit was very short notice, calling from the airport, short notice.

She called her assistant in to ensure that her afternoon would be cleared. Blair kept a room full of Bailey's favorite toys. She would have it ready by the time her sister's flight came in, but that included cancelling on Randall for their dinner; she wasn't sure how she felt about him meeting her baby sister quite yet.

Randall was a nice man, a good man, everything she thought she wanted to marry and even as they spent more time together she could feel something missing. It was a nagging feeling that notoriously tugged on her whenever she could feel a relationship coming to an end. She'd invited him on a girl's night out, to perhaps be inspired again by doting friends that called them the perfect couple. Before the night even drew to a close she knew it was fruitless. No, she wouldn't string him along any further. She would let him and her father down gently.

Her father's unusually proactive interest in her relationship was a new development. He introduced her to Randall. After their first date, which she had never told him about, he brought Randall up in every other conversation. The way Blair saw it her father was getting older and he wanted his little girl to find happiness.

She wanted happiness. She knew that in all probability Randall wouldn't be the one to make her happy. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She answered turning her thoughts to work, leaving other personal musings of contentment for later.

Sweaty and sated from a backseat tryst with a lovely stranger he would never have to meet again Donald Herring smiled at a night well spent. All his friends were married with kids and cheating on their wives. Why play games when you know you're a bastard? He didn't need or want a wife and he hated kids. Kicking women out of his backseat on his way home was a perfect arrangement he'd perfected since college. If it isn't broke don't fix it, he thought to himself.

He'd begun to doze off when the car finally stopped. The sound of his driver's door slamming shut startled him. Sitting up to wipe the drool from his mouth he grabbed his jacket as ungracefully as he exited the car. The ugly rundown building in front of him was the first clue that he wasn't in Kansas anymore. It was an deserted building with a loading deck aged by use and abandon.

"What the…" his eyes landed on the driver as soon as he'd finished taking in the unfamiliar world around him. "Get back in the car and take me home."

The driver didn't respond.

Donald Herring's five eleven frame would have been intimidating in some circles, but the driver didn't back down when the wealthy man stalked toward him.

"Mr. Herring," a voice called out from the building.

Herring's frown hardened when he heard the voice of a woman. His gaze trailed along the broad shoulders of the driver to the shadows where a brunette in black emerged. Being a male first and foremost he noticed she was easy on the eyes. "Who are you?"

Jo took a seat on the landing eyeballing him.

Herring scoffed looking around, "you as deaf as lurch here?" he pointed to the tall man, who had yet to utter a word.

Jo looked at Remy. The tall Cajun was a talker on most occasions, but he could play the strong and silent type better than most. "Donny you've been a very bad boy, in the thirty six years you've been living you haven't contributed a single good thing to society. You're responsible for some shady stuff I don't even want to mention, I could, but I won't."

"What the hell is this?"

"Intimidation."

Remy's meaty hand swiftly connected with Donald's stomach. Keeling over in pain gasping for breath Jo didn't bat an eye. She was more than familiar with his list of offenses unofficially documented. His money made it easy to avoid accountability. Associates of his had been collared on smuggling, but nothing could concretely link Donald Herring to the crime. A lot of innocent people had been hurt so that it seemed like his hands were clean, too many to count—too many even on sleepless nights.

That's what Jo thought of as Remy hit him over and over. Remy took great care to leave his face, but his body wouldn't be the same after tonight.

Crumbled in the dirt smelling of blood, sweat, and sex Jo's noise twitched at the musky combination. Her boots crunched under the dirt and broken glass, she lifted a shard with her gloved hand. "Drunks and kids always looking to spruce a place up," she threw it aside waiting for Donald to recover.

"Wha…wha…why?" he barely managed the monosyllable.

"Tomorrow after you've had your run in the park and flirted your married secretary out of her pink lace panties, your driver Hal's going to take you to work, like he does every morning. And you're going to go to your office on the twenty first floor with one change." Jo placed the contract within inches of his face, "this isn't the first time you've seen this and it won't be the last."

Herring frowned.

"At you're meeting at nine thirty you're going to sign this."

"The hell I will," Herring glared first at Jo then the larger man.

"You've got a busy schedule Donny anything could happen to you between the times you wake and get to work. Life's unpredictable that way."

There was no mistake in Jo's threat and from the look in his eyes he understood it. Jo felt like her point had been made. Donny would sleep on what had happened tonight. And just in case he needed any more incentive they had left a nice surprise for him when he got back home. Remy threw him into the back seat.

The red lights faded as the limo receded into the dark. There it would just be another car on the road of the sleepless city. Jo sighed and looked at the time. Louie, her former partner, had invited her for drinks at his place. She'd been putting him off for the past few weeks making excuses. He didn't deserve the cold shoulder. It was eleven thirty now he probably expected her a lot earlier if he hadn't already gone to bed. It was presumptuous on her part to walk to knock on his door and anticipate the owner to answer. Louie was five years her senior, but he had a lot of qualities that reminded her of an old man.

"Damn Po," he had a habit of calling people by their last names. He claimed to shorten her name because the thought of how long it was made him too tired to say it.

Jo stepped into the house after he greeted her. The décor hadn't been changed since his mother passed away nine months ago. Jo had had the pleasure of meeting and being fed the late Beatrice Underhill. She was always fondly reminisced in Jo's mind as the mother-in-law that got away. Louie being born a man and ruining Jo's chance at the world greatest mother-in-law was a long standing joke. Louie had even entertained the idea when they first started working together. It didn't take long to see however that they worked better without physical anticipation. It wasn't until later on that he was privy to Jo's preference for women.

Jo could see that he had probably been asleep. Nevertheless he headed into the kitchen, his mother's pride and glory, and retrieved the beers he'd bought for that night. To say he was pissed when Jo hadn't showed after a noncommittal maybe was an understatement.

They drank quietly eying the other.

"Your friend Ramsey called me today," he swallowed.

Jo smirked bringing the bottle to her lips, "et tu Lou?"

"I'm your friend Po no matter how it looks."

"That sounds familiar," she snorted.

"You come here with the explicit purpose of being an ass?"

Sighing heavily scratching the back of her head, she settled into a chair against the wall closest to the kitchen entrance. "Not the explicit," she defended with a smile.

He answered with a chuckle. Their relationship was an uncomplicated one. They lived by a code of loyalty both had grown up with. Louie took a bullet for her when she didn't secure a house properly. The crack head they were going after had an older woman drugged up and wrapped around his finger. The woman hadn't had the good sense to understand they were the good guys. Jo covered for Louie when a stripper named Helen became obsessed with him on an undercover assignment after he dipped his proverbial pen in the ink. The ordeal jeopardized the four month operation. All involved were happy that stalker Helen now resided in a Rhode Island psychiatric facility.

It was easy to share anything with someone knowing the answer to any question would be unconditional loyalty. She had that with Louie and he had that with Jo. However, some things couldn't be said aloud no matter how understanding the listener.

"How's life under the hood," he asked.

"Same ole," Jo shrugged. Louie became a regular at Teodor's garage. Since Jo wasn't as eager to visit him he made it a point to pop up with 'car problems'.

"The car is making some weird sounds when I make turns," he offered offhandedly. Jo knew where he was going, but started on a third bottle without comment. He caught her up on the precinct gossip. It was the safest topic and he knew she'd be curious even if she didn't ask. Prostitute Joan, a black woman in her early fifties with a long flowing silver wig, was a regular. She bragged about knowing the 'shoe sizes' of the 'suits', a term not so endearingly used for their bosses. He related her latest escapade in the precinct. She was high as a kite propositioning anyone who gave her a glance. It wasn't until later that evening she was found outside her cell with a rookie named Marv Gentry in a very compromising position.

In the wake of the story Jo's beer sprayed from her mouth and Louie drank in Jo's reaction with a grimace. It was priceless. "Ugh nasty," she growled wiping her chin and looking down at her wet jeans. Joan may have been a looker thirty years ago, but now she had the look of a woman gang banged by too many vices.

"I'm not goin' to be the only one taking that image to the grave with me," he shared.

After another hour Jo left. Louie had a job and while she had the day off she'd probably go in and work anyway. The garage was closer than her apartment so that's where she headed.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Natalie smiled at 'little Blair'. The young girl was a spitting image of her roommate, an ode to Blair's youth as she liked to say. Even when she opened her mouth it wasn't hard to gather this kid had Blair's genes. The girl had already discovered her favorite subject and it looked her in the mirror every morning.

Blair had been catering to Bailey ever since she arrived, which was about the same time Natalie did. Both sisters were self absorbed, but there was no denying how much they enjoyed being around each other. She hadn't realized until that evening how much of a bonding experience whipping hair from shoulder to shoulder was.

Spooning her cereal out of her bowl, she looked over her notes for her breakaway article that would put her in the big leagues. All this number news was giving her a headache, and her heart wasn't in it. She saw the job as a stepping stool. It put her one step closer to the award winning writer she was destined to be.

Until that day she had her notes and the duty to introduce Bailey to the joy of eating cereal during dinner time.

Blair swept into the kitchen carrying a bag of groceries. She stopped short when she noticed her little sister and Natalie and their one course meal. "Care explaining this?"

In mid chew Natalie paused, "dinner," she started back again. Bailey continued eating happily never noticing the distraught look on Blair's face. It was never an issue that Natalie never cooked before. Blair was never around and almost always eating out.

Her mother would never forgive her if Bailey returned with bad habits, she would have to keep an eye on her little sister a little more, and perhaps for a while pay a nanny to come by help out when she wouldn't be around.

"So….what would you like to do tomorrow sweetheart?"

Bailey looked up from her bowl. No one asked her that often so she looked dumbly at her big sister who awaited her answer. She was always followed someone else's agenda. It didn't surprise Blair when she gave her a wide eyed look. She pondered the thought and then resigned to saying what she said whenever she knew her mother was only asking for convenience.

"I don't know… what do you want to do?"

Blair eyed Bailey, but didn't press it. "Well, I was thinking maybe we could head to the movies, or the zoo." Bailey's eyes brightened and Blair continued, "I know this great ice cream parlor I know you'll love."

Bailey anticipated being spoiled for her visit. It wasn't like her mother where she felt like a life sized doll for her mother. Blair and her friends actually asked her questions and expected an answer. She liked the freedom of that. Her sister was everything she wanted to be when she got older. She was beautiful and she smelled like a princess.

When Bailey was tucked in she made her way back into the kitchen where Natalie sat working. She went into the fridge pouring a glass of wine. Natalie didn't look up from her notepad when she started talking about how much Blair looked like a mom.

Natalie missed the blush when she accepted the comment with a thank you.

"Working on something new?"

Natalie just nodded inching in front of her notes so Blair couldn't read it. "So was Randy feeling randy when he found out about the imperfect side of Blair Warner?"

Ribbing Blair good naturedly was like a sport Tootie and she enjoyed. Being younger they were apprehensive. Blair Warner's reputation as school didn't dare be sullied by things she wasn't good at much less those things being spoken aloud.

Blair drawled evenly, "no such side exists." Natalie answered with a snort, "don't stay up too late," Blair warned heading to her room.

She closed the door behind her. She took her time changing into her evening clothes. Donning her dark rimmed reading glasses and her Danielle Steele book from her side desk she began chapter twelve. Books helped her get in touch with the idealistic side of her still in love with love. When she was done reading for the night and the residual weightlessness subsided she would settle into her seats and think about her love life. A picture sat in the first drawer beside her bed. She knew it was there because every night for the past couple months, since she'd banished it to the drawer, it begged to be turned over. Out of sight and out of mind she thought stubbornly.

The practical side of her knew differently. Her unconscious would remind her of how wrong her conscious musings were. She could say all day how she was over Jo. Yet, when the sun goes down left to her thoughts like clockwork her thoughts were no longer in her control.

"Blair," a small voice interrupted her thoughts.

Blair looked up from her book and smiled at her little sister standing just inside her door holding her princess doll. The jewelry she had been playing with was replaced by night clothes Bailey took great care to cloth her in.

"Hey sweetheart," Blair could only describe the feeling as something warm filling her up when she first saw her baby sister. The feeling increased watching her grow and holding her. It made sense that they wouldn't be close with the drastic age difference, but the reality was that she loved spending time with Bailey. The little girl reminded her so much of herself. Her mother had shortcomings that hadn't changed, and Blair wanted to spare her sister some of the growing pains of being her mother's daughter.

Bailey was suddenly shy when she started toward the bed, "what are you doing?"

Blair looked down at her book and pulled her glasses off, "I'm reading," she answered simply.

"Oh," the young girl paused before continuing, "What are you reading?"

"A romance novel," Blair placed the book down when it didn't look like she'd be getting back to it anytime soon.

Small eyebrows furrowed, "what's romance?"

Blair smiled watching her inch to the bed with every question. She patted the spot beside her and Bailey eagerly sank into a plush pillow placing Princess beside her. She maneuvered the doll to make sure she was just as comfortable and looked at Blair with a curious gape. Blair's face was starting to hurt from smiling so much, but it was a response that only Bailey of late could provoke. Suddenly she felt bad for ever thinking that having her around was a bad idea.

"It's a story about love between two grownups," the response was simple enough, but the little girl still had a confused expression prompting Blair to question it.

"Like mommy and Maxwell?"

Blair stopped her brows from rising. Her mother had introduced Maxwell in Bailey's life, but she still wasn't sure if he would be a stable companion or just another notch. "Um…something like that sweetie," she kept her answer intentionally vague.

"You know Romeo and Juliet?" she asked Bailey as she made herself even more comfortable at Blair's side.

"No," the girl shook her head. She pressed against Blair's stomach, but it wasn't uncomfortable so she didn't discourage the girl from laying there. She talked about the spark of love between the two. She left out the unhappy ending. Bailey wasn't like her in this instance. She felt the girl would have a cool head on her shoulders when it came to love. Blair wasn't displeased with the thought. Both sisters lay quietly until Bailey's curiosity resurfaced.

"Who do you love?"

Blair was aware of what her sister was asking, but chose to avoid it. Instead she started tickling her and answered, "I love…..small little girls with blonde hair named Bailey." The fits of giggles coming from the room amused Natalie, who had resigned her personal project for a report due at ten the next morning. She bit down on her pencil in anxious habit. It was going to be a long night.

Word spread fast for a loose jawed polish community of cops and housewives. Jo was suspended, no real details other than incompetence on her part. Incompetent wasn't something Teodor would have used to describe Jo. Though he figured if she wanted to talk about it she would. Teodor wasn't one to press for details, especially if it rocked the proverbial boat. Hiring her was one of his better investments. Jo was a popular mechanic that worked on any car, truck, and bike that came in. She'd even brought in new clients, that actress off of the drama he couldn't think of came by a lot. When he finally braved speaking with her, she volunteered her autograph for his wife. It gave her bragging rights to all her envious friends for a month.

His wife had a kind heart, and was a stout believer in food being able to help the soul along for healing. That belief had him heading back to the garage after hours with a plate of his wife's Kielbasa and Cabbage. She insisted he run it over to Jo. His wife had strange views on the subject of food, but that didn't stop him from enjoying her cooking. Jo for the last few weeks had been enjoying the fruits of his wife's cooking on Wednesday s when his wife found about Jo.

"Hey Jo got somethin' for you," he yelled over her music. She turned and nodding her head before she ducked back under the hood. Very few things made sense in Jo's life anymore, so she clung to the things that did. Working under a hood was as natural to her as breathing; she enjoyed the familiarity of it.

Teodor walked over. The car was a two door sedan a luxury car. It came in with problems almost every month. Teodor considered the owner to be a lucky man. All the trouble he had a habit of getting himself into, from married women to jilted exes, he was lucky that all that got damaged was his car. Jo watched it come in without batting an eye and just went to work; it wasn't new for Jo to work late.

"You calling it quits any time soon?"

Jo straightened her back. "Probably in another hour or so I want to make sure all the sugar is out."

The older man shook his head scoffing. "You think he'd learn," he said it more to himself than to Jo. She wasn't much for idle chatter, at least not to him. The brunette went into the back room to wash her hands.

"Thank your wife for me will ya," Jo took the plate pushing the aluminum back diving in with a plastic spork.

"Will do." He walked out without a backwards glance. Jo couldn't help but like the guy. He didn't pry and he respected her silence.

Jo passed the night away with the radio and her tools as her only company. Her mind wouldn't let her sleep. It had become routine for the past few months to work until she dropped. Tonight was no different. Teodor had only missed David Warner by minutes. The corporate tycoon was becoming too comfortable on the wrong side of the tracks just to spoil Jo's day.

Jo remembered when Dave's head was flecks of gray, now the majority of his head was full of white. Distinguished would be the word to describe the look the white gave him. Jo wasn't impressed. Beyond the pressed suit, expensive hair cut, and equally expensive image was a man. As imperfect and dangerous, perhaps more dangerous with his means to buy whatever he wanted.

He strode into the garage as if he owned the place. It was a rich people habit Jo accredited to the omniscience courtesy of a gargantuan bank account. He held an envelope under his arm. There was no need for her to inquire about it since she knew he'd hand it over.

"Everything I do is for my daughter," as if that excused every cruelty he was ever guilty of. For a man that claimed to have no regrets he started to habitually justify his actions to her. It was kind of ironic especially since Jo was the one getting her hands dirty.

"You don't give her nearly enough credit."

"What kind of father would I be if I didn't protect her," he stated solemnly placing a yellow envelope beside the grease stained hip.

The details of the envelope were unfocused under her lazy gaze. They could discuss philosophy, ethics, and the infallible bond between daughter and father. Jo's employer was a man use to getting what he wanted so there was no use wasting her breath trying to reason with him. An attribute his daughter inherited with the subtle grace of an elephant waltzing on ice.

Staring at the engine not really paying attention to the hardware Jo enjoyed the effortlessness of doing nothing, for the moment at least. Only someone who kept busy appreciated being still.

"Protect her or your legacy?"

"Is there a difference?"

Jo scoffed. She knew Blair had always struggled with being enough for the only two people, who never seemed to be sated. Blair was smart, compassionate, witty, daring, and funny everything a parent could hope their child to become. In their eyes she was a trophy. Blair had once described herself as a trinket. She was to be brought out in fine dresses and jewelry to satisfy daddy's quota for public face time. Thoroughly disgusted Jo accepted the envelope.

Money corrupts, David knew that more than most people because he'd had a box seat for over thirty years. Joanne didn't work that way. She was about honor and loyalty. He didn't have to bribe her with money when his daughter was the object of her affections. When he first found out about the two he was livid. He could have gone with his first reaction and orchestrated a series of unfortunate events to Joanne's career and personal life. However, a man in his position didn't earn all that he now possessed acting rashly.

Instead he waited patiently. He allowed the affair to continue. Blair was young and privileged and he wouldn't deny his daughter her toys. He was too cynical to believe in fate or destiny. He never considered that Blair was actually in love with a woman. Joanne was under the impression the feelings were real when he confronted her with their affair. It didn't much matter what had been real or not. It was no longer relevant. Blair was dating a proper suitor. And he was grooming Joanne to be an exceptional pawn.

Fortuitous was the word that first came to mind when he'd heard about Joanne and Charles March. David only played a small role in extending her suspension. Her Captain had his priorities in order when it came to money and allegiance. Very aware of Joanne's qualms he disregarded them. In his eyes he owned her.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"You're dangerously close to sounding like a broken record," Jo dipped her head curiously eyeing the superman ice cream through the glass. The color filled vintage soda shop was one of the best places in the city to get great ice cream. Tootie wanted something sweet and Jo wouldn't be denying herself of the city's finest.

"And the unhappy blonde force of nature you've been ignoring for the past few months?" Tootie watched Jo's reaction. It didn't take a genius to see that Jo still had a thing for Blair. It didn't hurt that an inebriated Jo admitted she was still very much in love with Blair.

Jo rolled her eyes, "You do know Nat's not a natural blond right?" Their former roommate was trying something new. Jo was convinced too much one on one time with the queen of peroxide blonds had gone to her head literally.

"I'm talking about the other one."

Jo knew she was being petulant, but it served the sitcom star right for being annoying, "what other one?"

"The one walking in behind you," Tootie answered with a smile that widened when she moved passed Jo to greet the duo.

First her shoulders tensed. Next sweaty palms, a jolt in her stomach that warmed the rest of her body and her tell tale heart drumming in a thrilled cadence. At the mere mention of Blair's name Jo's body betrayed her. Seeing the heiress in person contrasting feelings bottle necked in Jo's throat.

She hated herself for the reaction. She spent the better part of her life teasing this woman about her beauty. Despite that every dig was a lie any half hearted sap could repute with one look at Blair Warner.

The heiress occupying Jo's musings looked curiously at the detective. There were subtle changes to Jo's look, not all of it entirely cosmetic. Her wardrobe, already in a dire need for color had gotten darker. Jo's wardrobe matched her mood of late. The heiress couldn't imagine the horrors she experienced on a daily basis as an officer of the law. It was poetic Jo's rise from gang ridden adolescence to a crime fighting career in law enforcement.

"Hello Jo."

Jo's throat was still caught managing a simple nod before she turned back to her ice cream, making a mental check list of how she was going to make Tootie pay. "The chocolate dream looks good," a small voice commented as an equally small face inspected the selection inches from Jo's head.

"Eh, ya think?"

"I know," the little girl said as if nothing were ever more certain. Jo smiled at the endearing delivery.

"She's becoming a regular connoisseur since we've been coming here." Blair came up behind Jo. Her face resting in the impossibly small gap made from Jo and Bailey's heads.

Blair was probably wearing some ridiculously expensive hard to pronounce perfume. Her smell and her proximity drove the brunette insane. Being a cop gave her an uncanny skill to use her senses to asses a room and everything in it. For now Blair monopolized all those senses. She didn't want to make her personal musings fodder for another one of their fights. And oh how she wanted to fight with Blair. To see her chest heaving up and down to watch her breasts press against the silk from the motion. Her eyes glaring at her and passed her and through her, damn those eyes. She needed to get out here.

As if sensing Jo's retreat when she stood Blair stopped her in her tracks following her rise. Toe to toe like they'd been all their life—it seemed climatic despite the dancing sundae twirling a cherry on the décor of wallpaper.

"If I recall you were a big fan of cookies and cream." Blair's words were whispered and deliberate, knowing the hitch of Jo's breath came from the same memory she herself was recalling.

Jo's eyes darkened icing the lustful haze Blair stirred, it was a low blow. Recalling the best few months of Jo's life with Blair was a double edged sword. She stayed away from the memories for her own survival. She stayed away from Blair to stop herself from wanting to remember. She loved Blair for the life of her she couldn't stop. It had been two years since the eight months they were a couple. She tried to rally every resentful feeling into a 'reasons to keep away from Blair' mantra.

She tried to move passed Blair but the blond was relentless.

"Don't," Jo's words were hard with lust.

"Don't?" Blair challenged her chin rising a little more. Her lips parted staring at the lips across from hers. It would be easy to lean in and taste what Jo was determined to deny her. But there were too many eyes to do what she wanted to Jo.

"Just don't Blair," Jo's voice lowered aware of a curious Tootie eying them. The actress distracted Bailey with questions about what she should try.

"Make me understand Jo."

Jo hated the series of events that put it in her head they couldn't be together. She wondered how she managed keeping everything to herself as a kid, because now it was unbearable. Blair made it even worse by looking at her like a woman scorned. The truth was she had been. Jo was guilty of being too angry and afraid and before she could do anything mature, she had already set in motion her life to this point.

"Blair," Bailey tugged her hand. The blond looked down and smiled at the ice cream cone being handed to her. Tootie handed Jo her large Superman ice cream cone. Jo looked at it and didn't like the implied 'you're staying'. Taking it would mean more time around a woman she really needed to get away from. The suspended cop relented and followed the other three to a table by the window. Bailey tuned out the world to focus on devouring her cone. Blair and Jo exchanged glances leaving Tootie to act like she wasn't watching.

Baiting didn't work for this Jo, at least not in the same petty way it had once did. That didn't mean Blair didn't have anything up her inordinately expensive sleeves. She licked reflexively slowly scaling the monolith of ice with her tongue. She would have never noticed the effect she had on Jo if not for an uncomfortable sound emanating from Jo. Her eyes jumped curiously. She wasn't hallucinating. She knew all the signs of an aroused Polniaczek. Once upon a time she treated these signs as undiscovered treasures to study and savor.

Jo eyed Blair recognizing her 'I found a spot I like' look. She allowed herself to be tortured for the hours it seemed to take Blair to finish her treat. Her guilty pleasure was to watch—and she even remembered to lick once or twice when she remembered she had a cone too. For the most part she focused on sitting comfortably while her reactions below the belt made sitting blankly very painful.

Tootie and Bailey sat across from each other talking about acting. Tootie shared her misadventures as a young girl with ambitions to act. While Bailey shared that she wanted to one day do the same. Tootie thought it had a lot to do with the attention she smiled encouragingly. Three devoured ice cream cones later the Warner's headed the small group when they were ready to leave.

"That ice cream sure put you in a good mood," Bailey commented innocently. Blair continued to hum swinging their hands as they walked.

Tootie and Jo followed behind quietly while Blair agreed her mood had improved. Polniaczek's discomfort however went unnoticed by the little girl content to think the powers of ice cream could solve anything.

A single folder of charges from a garage was the last of Blair's business for the day. An accountant noticed the receipts were for questionable amounts of money. It made less sense that the company wouldn't use the in house mechanics that worked on the company trucks. All the company vehicles or perk cars as they were fondly called were serviced in the Bronx garage starting from six months back. Now that Blair was an aware with a thorough look over the folder she shared the accountant's alarm.

She picked up the phone to call the number for the garage provided in the folder. On the third ring Blair unconsciously smiled hearing the thick Bronx accent answer. She introduced herself as a Warner Textiles lawyer and continued on to inquire about the services the garage provided. From his voice she knew he was older late forties perhaps maybe even older than that.

Teodor Adamanski was the owner, but his best mechanic had brought the business in. She heard the pride in his voice when he spoke of the hero in stained overalls. However she couldn't appreciate the fact that money was being taken inconsistent with the work done. Jo had taught her a thing or two about cars and shady mechanics. It was a lesson Blair took to heart for reasons not entirely concerning polishing her automotive savvy.

"Polniaczek's a good worker, damn honest, anything—."

Blair blinked, "Polniaczek?"

"Yea, the name of the mechanic," Teodor clarified as a matter of fact.

"He worked for you long?" Blair was curious but suspicious emphasizing 'he'.

"She," Blair's heart pounded at the correction, "has been working with me for a couple months now, but I've known her since she was a kid. If there is anything wrong with the books it's on your end not ours."

Several things were going through Blair's mind. She remembered Jo had a cousin. She wondered how popular that name was in the Bronx. How many were female, who worked on automobiles?

"What is this Miss Polniaczek's first name?" she asked as if about to write it down. The mechanic unaware Blair's pad was imaginary helpfully spelled out the last name after he confirmed her suspicions. As far as she knew Jo was still a member of the NYPD, a compromise to a quota, but a zealous member.

Mr. Adamanski repeated Ms. Warner for a fourth time before she answered that she would keep in touch. As an afterthought she suggested they keep the conversation between them. If fault did belong to the company it didn't warrant disrupting anyone else's confidence.

The phone was hung up slowly. She stared at the handle questions swimming and none of it making sense. She knew Jo wasn't staying in her apartment anymore, not consistently anyway. The blond discovered that after waiting perhaps obsessively for a glimpse of the woman, who rejected her. She could have assumed Jo had taken a lover, but Tootie would have mentioned it to Natalie. Then they would try to hide guilty exchanges with the secret. No, something was going on with Jo that didn't involve another lover. She was too caught up in her thoughts to hear the commotion outside. True to Natalie's nature she let herself in at the inopportune moment. Blair's assistant flew in after her. More from habit rather than the desire to be in Natalie's company the blonde waved a flustered Vesper away.

"Blair," Natalie plopped down in abrupt gracefulness. "Long time friend and present roomie anything juicy and potentially lewd you'd like to share?

"What?" Blair was genuinely confused.

"Just think recent as in, and this is me spit balling, about an hour before you dropped Bailey off with the nanny."

Blair frowned. She didn't like smug Natalie asking questions for answers she already knew. It was a game she was in no mood to play, but Natalie was incorrigible. It was until a few choice hints later that Blair realized Tootie had probably shared their ice cream outing.

"Surely in reporter school you were taught to be a bit more subtle."

"I'm just curious what Blair was thinking, going Mary Magdalene on an innocent ice cream cone."

Blair lowered her gaze and fought the rising blush, but she managed a response. "With Tootie's dramatization and you're exaggeration you'd have a recipe for an addictively hazardous tabloid."

"We hope and dream," Natalie smiled sarcastically, "what's going on Blair?"

"Nothing," the answer sounded lame to even her hears. Natalie wouldn't stand for it and if she were in her position she wouldn't either.

Natalie wouldn't leave until she got what she wanted. And the lawyer wouldn't give her what she wanted. They were at a standstill. Natalie wasn't budging. While Jo was the only thing on Blair's mind, she was the last subject she wanted to talk about. The only solution was a compromise. The papers on her desk made it look like she was still busy. It was after three, but ever since Bailey's arrival five was the longest she stayed at work. That gave her two hours to figure out how to stall Natalie more and continue wondering why Jo was working in a garage. She suggested that they finish this when she was swamped with work.

Natalie felt for Blair. The latest boy toy hadn't impressed her or Tootie. Blair's forced gushing was more pathetic rather than obnoxiously annoying. When Blair and Jo started dating it was oddly romantic. Her attraction to Ben, the handy man, from their Ft. Lauderdale spring break at her grandmother's condo made sense. The man version of Jo was more acceptable to society and the part of Blair that cared about what society thought.

Fast forwarding to now perhaps going beyond the point of no return in their friendship was a bad idea. Jo turned out to be the one who couldn't handle them as a couple. Tootie and she noticed the fire simmering from Jo's rejection, disinterest, and absence. The one-a-day boyfriends were just for show. Any doubt of that had eroded with Blair's reaction to Jo that afternoon.

For those reasons and more she agreed to respect the lawyer's silence, for now.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Paul Eames glared at the beautiful day. Showers of light came in through his office window, but he wasn't impressed. He looked at the view because he was tired of looking at the clock. The brunette in black had told him the contract would be by at four fifteen. He had twenty minutes to glower and contemplate the series of events that brought him to this moment.

He had worked hard to get where he was. Business didn't allow him to indulge in humane thought processes. It may have given him a mechanical quality, but he was rich from it. His success and wealth put a target on his head. The target welcomed gold diggers, parasites, and blackmailers. Yesterday he stopped himself from throwing a weasel he had of a coworker down the stairs—today he was a target for blackmail. If he was partial to 'signs', then hot coffee spilled on him that morning, warned of something destined to go wrong today. When the envelope arrived with no address he thought it was a curious addition to his formal mail. He made a point to finish everything he needed to do with his invoices and memos before he actually opened it. By that time he it was after two and he figured he had time enough to peek.

Opening it he saw pictures. The photos weren't flattering, not that would have been the photographer's intent. The faces were clear and easily recognizable. It wasn't good for business to be seen with a tech assistant of a competing company. The photos of the clandestine meeting were shot motion to motion until the final hand off. He had been uncharacteristically chipper that day, he had pictures for posterity.

He remembered that morning well. He stopped at his favorite restaurant for brunch before he left for, what he thought, was a secure bridge for the exchange. He hadn't thought to make sure if anyone was following him. It wasn't something that his job required. Obviously he was wrong.

He could lose his credibility and position with his company if the photos were ever found out. Insider trading was frowned upon punishable by time in prison. He hadn't given the contract a second thought the first time he'd seen it, but he recognized it. The document was the last thing he retrieved from the envelope. There was a call that he thought was odd, but he didn't think of himself as one to be bullied and threatened. The woman on the other end hadn't gotten her complete proposal out before he hung up on the phone. He hadn't taken a second thought with the envelope when it crossed his desk, but the photos had made an impact.

A short blond popped his gum annoyingly when Paul's secretary let him in. Hoping the messenger choked on it was wishful thinking that Paul allowed himself to indulge in. It lessened the blow of being caught with his pants down so to speak. He handed the envelope and the white collar professional signed with the ease of man use to signing his John Hancock. Within in moments the courier returned the contract to his yellow folder and went on his way. The brunette had promised him a hundred dollar tip if he returned with the signed contract within the hour. He had fifteen minutes by his watch so he hurried.

Paul watched the biker go eagerly. He sneered at the back. He would go home burn the pictures and entertain thoughts that there weren't any incriminating copies. When the second phone call came he made sure he listened to everything she had to say, the pictures garnered his undivided attention. He had asked if there were, but her answer was ominous. It was too good to pass up more blackmail from a man of her persuasion. He anticipated another call, not knowing his signature was the only thing wanted from him.

Jo watched the courier speed in her direction. She was outside a café she'd been sitting in earlier. She escaped the crowd inside to enjoy the weather. The sun was out and beating on the walking population. There were some clouds and Jo could've sworn on cluster looked like a donuts being eaten by a larger mouth with no teeth. His bike skid to a stop its rider delivered the package with a toothy grin. As a woman of her word she handed him an envelope with the extra tip. He looked inside his eyes brightening. Tipping his gloved fingers from his forehead to her he smiled wishing her a good day.

It was a good day.

"Two down," a thick Cajun voice rang from behind her. She hated when he highlighted his words using the rhythm of show tunes.

Jo didn't bother acknowledging the driver. Remy liked Jo. She was easy on the eyes with an attitude to match. Nothing was dull around the former cop and it worked out well, because he didn't like to be bored. He stood over her, but he had learned early on that his height and build wasn't something to rely on with her. He opened the door and she got in.

"Where to boss?" He already knew where they were going, but he enjoyed provoking Jo.

Jo for her part only responded with a glare. He knew how much she detested the frivolity of having a driver. Like nursing an open wound with vinegar he kept their relationship interesting by jumping into the role of manservant.

When Mr. Warner first gave him the assignment to work alongside Jo he was curious. Up until then he was basically an instrument with eyes and ears. His mouth wasn't all that important, but he took liberties with Jo. Deep down he thought Jo liked him. He thought he kept things pretty interesting, if anything interesting was a quality that worked for him. She threatened him a few times, and felt that he had read her right to mean that threats were a good thing.

"You know you're a product of your surroundings," he talked while he drove them through traffic.

Jo stared out the window pretending not listen. This could go on all day considering whose mouth it was moving.

Silence didn't faze the driver, "the only healthy emotional outlet of your emotions in your adolescence was violence. It's your comfort zone, hence your choice of a career that sees your aggression as a positive contribution to society."

The brunette sighed heavily drumming her fingers on the glass. Glaring at traffic wouldn't make it go faster, but it wasn't for her lack of trying.

"….insults, threats of bodily harm are really extensions from that comfort zone to show affection."

Jo smirked meeting his eyes in the mirror, "why don't you come back here so I can show you how much I like you."

Laughter rang from the front seat, but he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the ride. He consoled himself with the fact that Jo liked him, even as the divider was being rolled up.

Since enlisting the help of a nanny, Natalie took full advantage of the cooking skills via Bailey. The little girl didn't mind being helpful and often enjoyed the food that Natalie hinted she should ask the nanny to make. On such a night Natalie had been in the mood for lasagna. It was still hot when Natalie relieved the nanny smiling happily at the wonderful smell of cheese and meat. Blair usually came home minutes after she did. Bailey was in the den playing with her dolls and jewelry. She was the only kid she knew that had real diamonds hanging from the necks of her dolls.

"Hey kid," Natalie dropped her satchel by the couch.

"Hello Natalie," she picked up her princess doll, "Princess say hello to Natalie," on cue the little girl changed her pitch greeting the writer.

"Will Princess be joining us for dinner?" Natalie played along with Bailey. She knew what it was like to have an inanimate companion. She shared some of her most intimate hopes with her purple hippo Hal. He was great as a pillow too.

The young blond looked to Princess and declined graciously befitting a princess. She wanted to watch her figure. Natalie nodded and smiled. Sometimes it was easier to speak through something else than take responsibility for the words yourself. Natalie wasn't a parent, but it didn't seem like a good parent would push their health issues on their own daughter. She smiled indulgently before she headed into the kitchen to taste the spoils. Opening the oven the smell of lasagna filled her lungs. Her stomach grumbled reflexively.

"Third degree burns are in your near future if you decide to climb in there Nat," Blair's warned amused. Natalie greeted her with a grin of chagrin as Blair leaned against the counter top.

Natalie closed the door sighing, "Some things are worth getting burned for."

The flicker of humor faded. Natalie realizing what she just said opened her mouth to change the subject, but Bailey beat her to it.

"Smells yummy in here, I don't think Princess really cares about watching her figure anymore."

Blair looked questioningly at Natalie, who answered by turning and retrieving plates from the cabinets. She and Bailey helped set the table, while Blair went upstairs and dressed down for comfort. She leaned into a Langley sweat shirt she stole from Jo when they started dating. She brought it to her nose and inhaled.

The finest smells in the world had nothing on perfume Polniaczek, a heathen and feminine blend she wouldn't bottle up to share. Jo still loved her, or at least still wanted her, from her reaction in the ice cream parlor. She smiled into the shirt. Thoughts of Jo led to more thoughts of Jo leading to the interesting question of why she was working in a garage. She was focused on keeping busy with her career and flaunting new men every other day in her social life. It was easy to lose track of someone she was trying desperately to get over.

Natalie nor Tootie had said anything. They all had aspects of their careers they tended to, but they kept each other current. Surely Jo would have said something after making a drastic career change. Jo didn't talk to her anymore unless she had to. It took Tootie's scheming to get them in the same room together, and she wasn't even sure how well that went. If anyone knew about what was going on with Jo it would be Tootie.

She frowned at the thought. For the longest time it was Jo and Blair. Tootie and Natalie were of course valued members of the musketeers, but they were each closer to the other. She felt foolish to be jealous of Tootie, but she was. She had been Jo's shoulder for a long time. Was she so easily replaced? By Tootie of all people she groused to herself. The woman had a mouth that could run a marathon with all the secrets she couldn't keep.

Sighing heavily she decided to arrange a friendly lunch to get Tootie talking. It wouldn't take much once Blair worked her magic, not that she would need to work hard.

"Jo," she moaned. Looking longingly at the shirt she had plans for later that evening. For now she had an adolescent to amuse and a nosey roommate to keep at bay.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Lorraine fought the dark pulling her in. She wanted to live no matter what her choice to stay with Mitch might have said to outside eyes. She knew being with him wasn't good for her health, but she ignored the warnings in the back of her head most of the time. Once upon a time she believed the man smashing her face in would die before laying a hand on her. Once upon a time was for fairytale's and her life was anything but. She would have an end and from the looks of it wouldn't be happy. Would she be identifiable after this? He was killing her. He said she would and he was.

She lay still waiting for him to finish the job. She heard sounds—maybe more yelling she was in too much pain to figure out why. There were more loud noises as if he were throwing things. Her eyes were swollen shut so she relied on her hearing, and even then she couldn't concentrate. Pain was something she'd gotten use to. Unfortunately Mitch tested her tolerance with tirades like tonight. She was a reposed bruise unable to stand or defend herself.

She heard the footsteps. She whimpered words that hopefully sounded like stop don't hurt me. Waiting for another punch, it never came. A hand caressed her face. Then her body was being lifted from her place on the floor. She was in pain, but she was floating. Strange feeling, maybe she was dead and this was what it felt like to be lifted from earth. The smile would have been nice, Remy thought as he carried her out, if her teeth weren't coated in blood and vomit.

He disappeared with her through the backdoor. The neighbors weren't sound asleep so he kept in the dark of the backyard until he ducked through a patch of trees and headed to the road on the other side. He placed her in the backseat of his car and placed his jacket over her. It wasn't particularly cold, and she wasn't shivering, it just felt like the right thing to do. He closed the door locking it then headed back to the house to grab Jo.

Remy in his own mind didn't think grabbing Lorraine then jogging back took more than five minutes. When he entered the house Jo in black and in a mask stood over Mitch. Jo in five minutes had ruined the man. Remy eyed the rise and fall of his chest relieved that Jo hadn't killed him. That was another kind of mess entirely. At this moment the Cajun didn't know who would win an ugly contest between Mitch and his wife. Jo stared down at Mitch with rage. Like an angry painter staring down at a macabre masterpiece. Jo took one step back and then another in Remy's direction.

The rage was controlled. If she had gone any further Remy wouldn't have stopped her. The man didn't deserve mercy. Their eyes met for an instant through their masks. Remy saw her rage and Jo saw his understanding. She hadn't felt guilty, the way she saw it she was playing by the rules Mitch were.

There would be no evidence of who gave Mitch Bell the beating of his life. Lorraine would disappear without a second glance to her life before. Whatever friends and family she had would sell her out to an angry husband bent on retrieving his 'property'. Jo would place a mirror in front of her to show how far she had fallen, drunk in her fear and misguided sense of loyalty. Jo would make her cry, watch her weep, and hold her and tell her that life was short and why play with the odds living with a nut case.

Lorraine wouldn't ask what about the police. Jo didn't even suggest calling the boys in blue. When she was ready to travel she would disappear. This would be another thing David could hold over her head, but a woman was alive because of it.

"Thank you," Jo heard the words mumbled out. She didn't bother responding, Lorraine passed out again.

Remy looked at Jo behind the wheel of the car. It wasn't often that Jo drove the car. He hardly allowed it since the car belonged to David Warner.

"You ok?" He asked out of habit. He wasn't particularly concerned with Jo unless she was flirting with the part of her that enjoyed smashing people's heads in.

For a long time Jo didn't say anything. She heard him and felt his eyes on her, but she didn't acknowledge either. Tonight had been unexpected. Remy had been driving her around. They ended up in a rural neighborhood when Jo unconsciously recalled the address aloud. Passing by the familiar home Jo saw a man dragging his wife inside. Outside of her screams and Remy's car the street was dead. Neighbors would eventually call 911 when the noise got too loud, until then they stayed to themselves.

Jo reacted. When she told Remy to go around the corner she closed her hand around the handle when Remy held her shoulder. She glared at him not willing to be stopped. He handed her a mask. If she had been of sound mind she would have questioned why he had masks on hand, but she took it in stride. She wanted to get into the house as quickly as possible. There was a back entrance to the house that annoyed Bell, because the neighborhood kids would get in and mess up his yard. Bell's 'feud' with the neighborhood kids was notorious and he made sure anyone within hearing distance knew about it.

Getting in was easy enough. There were still some skills from her 'gang days' that she used when they came in handy. Tonight, she needed to break in. Fortunately the lock wasn't tricky enough to cause her any trouble. She mused about the street wise kid she used to be and the complicated adult she had become. The thoughts didn't last long when a crash had triggered an urgency to hurry inside.

Her heart was still pounding against her chest. Her fingers were shaking from adrenaline. She willed them to stop by gripping the wheel of the car tighter. They were heading to an apartment that David gave her. She never used it. When David offered anything there was a catch. This one time Jo would relent. The woman needed somewhere clean, comfortable, and discreet. If there was anything rich people did well it was discretion.

"Jo," Remy called quietly but kept his voice firm. He didn't want to disturb the woman in the backseat.

"Yea…" she worked on calming her temper. It wasn't her intention to bark, so she worked hard not to do it. It would imply that she had little control over what she did next. Control was important to her. More so now than any other time she could think of. It kept her from turning around and finishing what Bell started on his wife. She kept her eyes trained on the road, satisfied by the quiet breathing from the back as the only signal that the battered woman was ok.

"What now?"

Jo relayed the plan in her head testily. When she was done he sat back placated for the moment.

Watching Bailey off sent a chill of sadness through Blair. Her mother had sent for her like a package to be returned unharmed. Blair obliged with a promise that she would visit soon. The sisters embraced at the terminal. Blair giving strict instructions that her sister is looked after with great care. The impression that if the child were to even receive a lukewarm meal, jobs would be at stake was duly noted.

Her mother could make an art of poor parenting. Bailey had stayed for two weeks. Blair had uprooted her schedule to accommodate her sister's arrival. She had anticipated her stay would be longer than two weeks. Blair could only assume that their bonding had been cut short by mother's mood. Maxwell would have responded in kind, by taking away what her mother coveted most, attention. Explaining why her sister was being shipped across the world to attend to Monica's flights of fancy.

Her thoughts were purely speculative, but they were plausible, because Blair's knowledge of her mother was absolute.

Sighing at the speck of a plane flying in the distance Blair checked her watch. She wasn't in the mood to return to work. She took very few liberties. Being the president's daughter she was subject to expectations to act like a privileged brat. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her thigh length purple coat today she wouldn't disappoint. A hint of a smile curved her mouth upward at the corner. She had something more interesting planned for the rest of her day.

She made the necessary call to Vesper cancelling everything. She made sure that the meetings she needed to attend could be pushed back or she could just be briefed later. Nothing on the list of things to do was urgent and she was pleased that playing hooky wouldn't set her back too much. After more calls to Natalie and her favorite restaurant, she was stepping out of her car looking at a god awful building that made her stomach swell.

She let herself in with a copy of the copy of the key Jo asked returned when they broke up. She let Jo think that she was being magnanimous about their break up.

She had to pay extra for the restaurant to deliver in this part of town, but she didn't mind. Making herself at home, the apartment was clean and neat and all Jo. She smiled at the smell of Jo wafting from every surface. Memories came with the smells. Sensations came with the memories. She started the bath first. The candles were where she left them in the pantry under the shelf with the bath cloths and towels. Jo wasn't one for candles, so she had plenty to litter around the bath tub. Padding around in thin black stockings she turned on Jo's stereo. The volume loud enough to hear Peabo Bryson in the comfort of the bath she was running.

She unintentionally left a trail of clothing to the bathroom. She hummed happily stepping into the warmth of the water enjoying the calm of flickering candles. She could question the ethics of breaking into her ex girlfriend's apartment to escape from the world, or opt to ignore societal perceptions of normal behavior. She didn't expect Jo to come home. That didn't stop her from imagining Jo, in her fantasies, arriving home happy to see her. Lust filled eyes drinking in her body, with curious hands leaning closer to break the blanket of bubbles hiding her womanhood.

Blair smirked at her own imaginings. A hand slid between her legs while they parted easily acquiescing unconsciously to the lawyer's need. She rubbed teasingly, in the way Jo would tease. She flicked a finger over her clit jumping at her own touch. She could smell the brunette. She could see her eyes staring at her with reverence and lust. "Jo," she moaned biting her lip softly moving her hips to the fingers that played with her opening. She moaned again. Her hips moved to the rhythm of the music while her fingers teased in the way Jo use to.

"Please baby…" she moaned to the apparition she desired, more than anything, to be flesh and blood.

She rocked back and forth her eyes closed imagining Jo pumping in and out of her. She bit her lip harder, her moans becoming a throaty growl too primal to be lady like. She was close. Jo's smell pushing her beyond the brink of simple imaginings to a living breathing woman standing in the doorway watching Blair pleasure herself. Hooded eyes popped open and the moan of climax turned into a scream of horror and more horror.

Immediately jerking from her reposed position she pushed candles to the white fluffy mat she gave Jo to girly up her bathroom. Jo jumped into action when the rug caught on fire. Blair stood still screaming holding the shower lining to her forgetting the material was transparent. Jo stomped out the fire dancing on the flames until the smell of burnt rubber and rug surpassed the scent of apple cinnamon. Stepping off the rug, it was ruined with dark spots and holes where it had burned through before Jo could get it out.

Settling water and heavy breathing loaded the room with tension. Jo stared at the rug ready to pounce as if it was going to spontaneously combust. She didn't dare look up at Blair. The blondes' sounds had sent her reeling when she realized what she was hearing. She drank her beer pausing when she realized she wasn't going crazy. The sounds she heard were indeed human and female. When she started toward the bathroom the trail of clothes made her even more curious and then she heard her name being moaned. The shadows of the dancing candles fell on the part of the hallway parallel to the open door. She'd stopped to listen and then peeked in leaning one arm against the door biting her finger listening. She knew if she made a sound Blair would stop. She hadn't counted on the woman opening her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Blair yelled.

Jo reacted, "What the hell are you doing here?" her retort was a lot huskier than she would have liked.

"Taking a bath!"

Jo scoffed, "I see we were being thorough."

Blair glared her body heated from embarrassment and anger, "get out!"

"This ain't your ivory tower princess, my place," Jo pressed her thumb to her chest. "You get out," she finished smugly.

"Joanne Marie so help me I'll…."

"What?" Jo smirked challengingly, "deflower the rest of my furniture?"

Blair opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. Propriety hadn't prepared her for situations like these. What should she do with her lust when all her anger did was feed it? Even as she stood there clinging to her anger and the lining she wanted physical closure.

Jo walked out self satisfied that she hadn't ripped through the lining to get to the body behind it. Groaning into her bottle of beer she leaned against the counter for support. It would be so easy to take Blair, to kiss her lips and worship her body with feathered kisses. Feathered kisses? What the hell Polniaczek? Jo groaned again finishing her beer in large gulps.

Jo heard the door slam shut. She glared in the direction but decided to keep quiet and grab another drink. The knock at her door was unexpected, but she figured that was the theme of the day. Pushing off the counter she looked through the peephole and frowned.

"Delivery," the boy on the other side yelled.

Sighing heavily Jo looked around the room for Blair's purse. She didn't see it. Growling she opened the door asked how much and providing exact change and tip. He smiled happily at the tip like the courier from the other day. A pleasurable aroma wafted from the plastic container through the confines of the paper bag to Jo's nose. She looked to the bathroom again and then set the food out.

"What are you doing?" Blair had commandeered Jo's blue robe. Blonde tresses fell to her shoulder making her too sexy to look intimidating.

"Eating," Jo stared back at her plate diving into the pasta with her fork.

Blair frowned snatching the fork to take a bite. She moaned at the taste and Jo's sex jumped at the familiar sound. The lawyer's smell didn't help matters much either. "Good?" she questioned focusing on the lips the fork slid out of.

Nodding in answer Blair sidled closer for better access to the food. They ate in silence, Jo was too lazy to get up and get her own fork, so Blair willingly shared. The duo didn't speak for fear of breaking the companionable silence. It was easy and familiar and it felt so damn good.

The Warner heiress ever aware of how she looked eyed Jo, who wiped at her own mouth, gesturing for her to do the same. She wiped dumbly until Jo, frustrated, pushed her hand away. Jo's thumb wiped at the white pasta. She licked her finger clean. Blair moaned audibly and Jo's eyes flickered back to the willing woman within her reach. If she closed the distance between them Blair wouldn't object.

Blair was hers if she wanted her. And while Jo desperately wanted her, she wouldn't close the space. Getting up awkwardly she opened the fridge. The motion was more to cool down than actually finding something to eat.

Whipping around angrily Blair pushed the door closed and then the woman who would dare put it between them. Jo's back pressed hard against the wall. Her eyes were wide with surprise then lowered in lust when she saw the fire burning in Blair's gaze.

"What are you doing?" Jo clung desperately to words.

"Jo you watched me touching myself in your tub moaning your name and you haven't mentioned anything about it since." The woman spoke slowly, closing the small gap between them. "As if this kind of thing happens all the time," Blair took another impossibly intimate step.

"How do you know that it doesn't," Jo decided to provoke her. If a pissed Blair couldn't end the mood then she didn't know what could.

"Because I'm a regular in that tub Jo," Blair admitted "I would have noticed."

My tub? With naked Blair? At that moment so close ready to give in to the primal urge to ravage Blair she noticed Blair had her father's eyes. Those eyes that demanded and wanted in the same way Blair demanded and wanted and usually got. Jo hardened her resolve. It was one thing to be at the mercy of one Warner let alone two. Her mind and body reacted to the privileged spoiled life sized 'I get what I want' Barbie ogling her.

"You should go," Jo's voice lowered dangerously. She was no longer in a lustful stupor that Blair could manipulate.

The lawyer pulled back. She looked into Jo's eyes looking for love, compassion, anything resembling the friend and woman she fell for. She saw nothing. Her Jo was gone. Replaced by someone she didn't understand.

"You love me Jo," she stated with conviction. The logic in her said that she should walk away—get on with her life, Jo had. But her heart was being pulled in all directions that ultimately led to this woman.

"I don't think so Princess," Jo pushed passed her. She didn't want to be suffocated to death by the smell of Blair.

"I love you Jo," Blair said weakly.

Jo shook her head, "you don't know me anymore Princess." The last word came out softer than the others.

Blair looked at the resigned back of her former lover, "let me know you."

The silence lasted for moments in an illusion of eternity. It could go one of two ways. Blair hoped for an outcome that included Jo berating herself for her behavior over the last ten months.

Without warning Jo turned. She grabbed Blair roughly and kissed her hard. She nipped at Blair's bottom lip with her teeth and she could feel the blonde whimpering. She thought the blonde would push her away. She handled the princess roughly, probably more than she should have.

The kiss was raw and hard. There had been gentle kisses. There had been passionate kisses. Though all their lips knew were that each meeting was born of something beautiful and transcendent. This kiss was not. Jo pushed her rage and anger into the kiss. It wasn't fair to Blair, but her whole damn life hadn't been fair to Jo.

"You wanna know me still?"

Jo's hand pushed insistently at Blair's center, barreling through the fabric of the robe. Her fingers sank into to the wet need.

The slap that came after wasn't unexpected.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Mr. March smiled at the backside of a particularly eager intern. He was twenty years her senior, but she was still a little old for his tastes. Though, women in their twenties had their allure. They were much easier to break in than older self assured women, no longer handicapped by their daddy issues. He sat in his office 'on top of the world'. All he had to do was sit back and play the role of Charles March genius, philanthropist, and all around nice guy. The persona got him Man of the Year in '88.

He wore privilege like a silk glove and didn't make any apologies for it. Apologies were a waste when there was so much of life left to live. Money bought everything, even the silence of a few choice players that could bury him alive. And when money didn't work little girls having fatal accidents on the stairs did the job too.

It was messy. The cop was getting too close to little Sophia. His toy had to go. He caught some of his staff giving him looks. He hadn't fired them for looks. He kept them on confident they wouldn't speak. And three months later they were still silent cleaning his floors, making his meals, and tending to his garden. People weren't by nature good or bad, they were self preserving.

"Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. March?" the redhead asked suggestively.

His day had barely started he thought with a grin. March slid back from his desk indicating with one downward finger, that there was one more thing she could do before she left for the evening. No one could ever really say that he wasn't a man of compromise.

After the driver knocked he heard hurried moving behind the door. Waiting patiently with his package the door opened to a young woman with swollen lips. He wasn't sure if it was because she caught him staring or shame, but she lowered her gaze, and it didn't take a genius to know why. Remy walked in and handed over the package in his hand when the intern was dismissed by a reluctant mathematician.

Red lingerie hung from the arm of his chair. It wasn't like the man didn't know they were there. It took some effort on Remy's part not to fold his face in disgust. Jo hardly talked about him, but he read the papers and he had ears, putting two and two together bore duel sides of the computer genius. The drivers reflected on how strange it was for people to let go of their 'surface face' in front of people they deemed inconsequential. If they were to meet again he knew from experience people with March's disposition of wealth wouldn't recognize him. That kind of invisibility had its advantages. When rich people were fascinated by things they liked to toy with it.

"The darkest hour of any man's life is when he sits down to plan how to get money without earning it," he opened his drawer lifting out two yellow envelopes. "Horace Greeley," he offered before relinquishing his own package. Remy took them with carrying himself neutrally even though he could firmly state he was disgusted.

"Do you eat stupid for breakfast and let it digest through your day with the words that come out of your mouth?" Natalie was beyond offended. Max, a coworker, invaded her cubicle with the smell of after shave and coffee. The man was too much for her at the moment.

She had hardly slept the night before coddling Blair until she finally cried herself to sleep. Jo wasn't answering her phone calls to help and she was still working in a job she could safely now say she hated. She felt like a walking advertisement for creeps to shower her with below average pick up lines. She could be the 'it' girl for what one's life she never end up being.

A few choice insults later and Max the melon head had finally caught on that her insults weren't a kinky play of words. Behind her back they would call her uptight, a prude, maybe even a lesbian, but there was no invention to their surface insults. Bruised boys, with bruised egos had no imagination and yet they were the one's writing the lead stories. She groaned inwardly at her predicament of life.

She started typing when her phone started ringing. She glared at it as if she had the power to intimidate the phone to stop.

"Greene speaking," she tried not to sound too annoyed.

"Hey Nat it's me," Tootie smiled on the other end.

"Do you have any idea what the heck is going on with your best friends?" Natalie had the habit of giving Tootie the credit for their decade long friendship with the impossible duo. Today she was at a loss. Blair did nothing but cry last night and when she did speak her words were barely intelligible outside of one word, Jo.

Tootie shrugged on the other end adding that she was just as confused, "we need a plan of action."

Tootie and Natalie with the best intentions thought they could help. The very existence of either woman depended on the other. The codependent relationship that had first worried them warmed their hearts when they saw the love stemming from it. But now disaster was in the midst. It hung like a fog with no foreseeable end.

For the actress words were the only tools she'd need. Her friends would see reason eventually. They always had in the past. However, what Tootie wasn't taking in account were the years in between. There were variables on both ends that gradually took pieces of her friends, to be replaced by perceptions and beliefs that eroded the innocence of youth.

Everything was more complicated than stealing a van.

Natalie sighed when another coworker, Brian Himmel, strutted over with his hands resting coolly in his pants. He wore masculine clothes, dolled up his language to sound like some Casanova, but he was still the office slut.

He took liberties by shortening her name, a right reserved for people she liked. He leaned against the wall of her cubicle with one hand the other notoriously placed in his pants. She held her hand up to stop him, "I'm still not interested in having your cream in my coffee cup."

"I can open your mind to a whole new world Greene," he leaned in to whisper.

She followed suit, "I'd rather spend my evening tracing the outline of my iris with a toothpick."

A stack of mail ended up on her desk. The clerk smirked hearing the last of the conversation. He knew there was a reason he liked the weird chick in the numbers section of the paper. Too many women were focused on the wrapping no matter how bad the stench emanating from it.

Two insults and a successfully dissuaded suitor later Natalie could get back on task. She looked at the stack grabbing the manila envelope first. Her eyes looked around automatically. She never knew whether it was because he was her secret or because she waited to see if she was being watched. The reaction became reflexive when she received her first envelope three weeks ago. They were always from a L.P. King with no return address. She began research on the name when she realized that she had been mailed damning evidence involving corrupt police officials.

In no exact pattern she'd receive mail some with pictures and some were copies of official documents. Her job didn't give her the luxury of being patient, but she abstained, it wasn't unheard of for a reporter's career to go down in flames because of misinformation. She'd been studying the case files and notes given to her and gradually she was becoming more and more comfortable with her snitches credibility. The first door slammed in her face inquiring about official actions involving the murder of a little girl made her incredibly curious.

When she opened today's present she recognized the two men in the photograph. From the absence of people besides themselves, the meeting looked to be invitation only and in all caps scrawled on a sticky note, 'WHAT'S THE BIG SECRET?'

The men's bathroom had the same architectural design as the women's bathroom, it was a lazy observation only second to the first noticeable difference—the smell. Jo's nose twitched with the mixture of cologne and cleaning products. She sat on the counter waiting for March. She watched him walk confidently into his building after his lunch break. He spoke congenially to the people he passed. Their smiles gave away how little they knew about him. She could call herself paranoid, but following Remy was an impromptu decision. On happenstance she saw him in the street. A double take verified that the dressed down man who looked incredibly familiar was the driver. She had him checked out, but it was Dave she didn't trust. And by default Remy fell under questionable in Jo's mental catalogue of people she could and could not trust.

When she saw him disappear into the building she kept her distance, but it wasn't an applied science to conclude where he'd gone. Now she sat waiting. Frowning as the sounds of March relieving himself filled the otherwise quiet space. The click of the stall door unlocking triggered her into action. When he opened the door she rushed him pushing him back in, hitting him in the throat to muffle any sounds to warn someone of foul play. She grabbed his throat pushing him in the wall. He slid uncomfortably on the seat of the toilet eyes wide and scared. The part of Jo that enjoyed his fear pushed on his throat harder, but her reason wouldn't let her entertain it for long.

"De ja vu," Jo whispered. There was one other time they had been this close the last time he ended up with a concussion.

He tried to speak, but his response came out strained and hoarse.

Blair watched Vesper's mouth move. She managed to nod and speak and answer accordingly. She listened noncommittally to her itinerary for that day. When the secretary handed it to her she looked it over not paying attention to what the words made up. She entertained the thought of not showing up for work. Then, she thought better of staying home alone left to her thoughts. If Bailey had been there she would have had something happy to distract her. She kept Natalie up for most of the night until she cried herself to sleep.

She scoffed at the memory. Vesper looked up from the notes she'd made thinking she had said something to upset her boss. When Blair noticed her assistant stopped talking she looked at her in question.

"The Mulrone meeting is at five today would you rather it be transferred to Roger?"

Roger was a capable attorney that thought her employment was a joke. But as the boss's daughter she expected her coworkers to be a little bitter. Despite his shortcomings regarding his perceptions of her she observed his work with respect. He was a proficient lawyer and her father trusted him. Still, he relished in trying to make her look bad, which put him a category the blonde reserved for the jerks in her life. That left the thought of unloading the work to Roger and its suggestion null.

When she shook her head in negative, Vesper continued none the wiser until Blair stood and picked up her coat.

"I'll be back in time for the meeting," she heard herself say.

She nodded and smiled to passing coworkers and employees. She was astute keeping her real feelings far from the surface. If she showed a glimpse to the vultures, they would pick and prod and speculate. She wouldn't have an eloquent answer. Her normal witty ease had left her, replaced by awkward excuses and avoidance tactics that her mother would cringe to see. She was sure Natalie was full of questions after she came home last night distraught. Natalie was safe, a close friend whose shoulder was always willing to catch her tears.

But now, in the light of day, she had the reality of what happened the day before slamming into her at every turn. The pressure built up the evening before into the morning. The ringing in her ear informed her of an impending migraine. Her driver stood outside dutifully when she exited. She knew Vesper had probably arranged it. Like second nature she walked to the open door settling into the seat. Jo had wondered aloud how she could be so trusting of the people that drove her for a living. Jo's overactive imagination created scenarios where she was kidnapped for ransom. Scenarios, which Jo pointed out, could easily be avoided if Blair were more attentive to her surroundings.

The door closed behind her and then the driver asked where she wanted to go. It was a simple question she answered millions of times before with a cavalier certainty. Today, however, she was taken aback by the request and they sat there. The driver was anxious by her silence and Blair contemplated if the next words to come out of her mouth were wise.

Pushing her first response out of her head, she went with the second. The address didn't need to be repeated just the name of one of the most influential men in New York. The ride took longer than usual because of traffic. The city was doing more construction on the road. Everywhere one turned there was something or another being broken and built back up.

Blair's father owned several apartments in town. Her father was a calculating man. Each apartment had a purpose in the scheme of things. She often questioned if there was a purpose in his mind for her. As his daughter and heir to the Warner dynasty she considered her birth a necessity. She wasn't as naïve to think that she was a product of love and devotion. Her parents had stopped loving each other before she was born. It was paranoid to think like that, but they were thoughts she couldn't help indulge in.

Very few people were given access to the upper level apartments. Anyone with access was cleared through a rigorous security check. While Blair didn't visit her father regularly the concierge knew her face and name and immediately escorted her to elevator. She rode the top floor biting the inside of her lip. It was a nervous habit from childhood that revisited her in times of anxiety.

"Sweet heart," she heard him say when she reached the apartment. He opened his arms wide to her for a hug and she fell into them. When she was younger when the same arms closed around her she thought he could solve anything if she just asked.

A question was on the tip of her tongue as he led her further into the apartment. It had crossed her mind to talk to Natalie and Tootie about what she was feeling, but she already knew what they would say. They would tell her to cool down and forgive, but she didn't want to. They knew her better than most and were privy to her capacity to forgive, especially when it came to Jo. The bad-tempered part of the debutante that had been dormant since school arose with a vengeance.

"What do I owe this surprise my darling?" David sat adjacent to his daughter on the plush off white couch.

"I just wanted to see you daddy," she smiled, "we live in the same city, work in the same building and yet we hardly see much of each other."

He grasped his daughter's hand nodding the sad truth. The world of business had never allowed him as much time as he wanted with his daughter. He didn't feel guilty for the time he spent elsewhere. David knew without his commitment to his work his daughter wouldn't be the woman she was today.

"Well I'm glad you came. You've been doing an excellent job Blair I'm very proud of you. I've heard nothing but good things about you since you've been taken on."

"I'm your daughter daddy would you have expected any different?" Blair smiled. Her heart swelled at the praise giving her a boost of confidence, like air in her lungs.

David smiled quirking a brow, "no I suppose not," he admitted. There weren't many things Blair couldn't accomplish once she put her mind to it.

Blair noticed her father, like her mother, reminisced about her childhood with memories that didn't quite match up with her own. They took privileges with the truth, and since Blair had always been daddy's girl she was always more altruistic of her father's truth. She accepted the bias keeping it her secret. If her mother found out she would latch onto it like a leech and hold it over her daughter's head all the way to her death bed. And even after she died the woman would probably bring it up weeks later in the will. She could even see her mother doing something melodramatic, like mailing her a letter designated to be sent when she least expected it months after.

"Randall's been asking about you."

"Has he?" Her interested hadn't piqued at the sound of her 'suitor', but she played the part. The look pleased her father, and even older and wiser she still needed and wanted his approval.

"He has princess so why are you avoiding him?" He didn't wait for her to reply. "I like him; I think you'd be good together a good match."

"I like him too, but…"

"But?" he leaned into his daughter grasping her hand. He knew all too well what was on the other end of the 'but'.

"He'll be at the party and the gala. Perhaps with the atmosphere and the company you can appreciate what he offers you," David edged.

Blair obliged her father with a smile. Maybe she hadn't given him much of a chance.

She reminisced with her father. She sank into the familial banter between them. When he called her princess he meant it. She loved him for that. He gave her the confidence to take what she wanted and damn asking. This was why she came—to feel like her old self. The old Blair long before Jo Polniaczek showed her what it felt like to have a conscience, or look beyond the surface of things. She found solace in a superficial existence. While she knew it wouldn't last for long she would enjoy for as long as she could afford.

"You're a monster," she seethed. Spit formed at the lip as he struggled against her hold. She watched his face turn different shades indifferent to the varying pigments. She pulled a photograph out of her pocket and placed it at eye level.

It didn't surprise the mathematician that Jo held onto mementos of the case that got away. The picture of the little girl would have been a nice touch if he wasn't a sociopath. Though he did know what fear was and as he felt it now, he hated giving up that power. He knew how intoxicating it could be, but it wasn't an ideal turn in his fantasies to play victim.

"I won't let you forget her," Jo's pledge was barely above a whisper.

The older man tilted his head and Jo pushed harder on his throat.

"Ever," she reiterated.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

"I'm gonna kill her!" Jo yelled at the top her lungs.

A blank fragrant envelope with the impressions of lips in a dark red lipstick was taped to the door. There were no words, no hidden threats or promises. It left the owner of the apartment curious and then enraged when Jo opened the door and read it.

"Woman scorned?" Remy eyed Jo's reaction letter in hand.

Jo glared. She needed to control her breathing. She had just expected the Princess to feel bad lick her wounds and fight another day. It was juvenile and petty and quintessentially Blair. Remy thought it was hilarious.

"She put out an ad?" Tootie gasped.

"More like registered Jo's number and address as an open anytime up for anything type of deal if you get my drift." Natalie's intonation said it all.

Natalie remembered when she had to spell everything out to Tootie. Her youth was a lot simpler than the others, but with age comes wisdom, for some. She didn't consider putting up a billboard with her ex's picture advertising all you can eat was mature. Of course because the billboard was in Natalie's overactive imagination didn't mean Blair wouldn't go that far.

"You know what we need to do right?" Tootie shook her head to the offer of donuts by an eager intern. She had had her share of crushes growing up so she tolerated Lester's attention with more patience than most.

"Make them share a cramped space and a bathroom, put them on kitchen detail make them cook and clean after us until they figure out the facts of life?"

Tootie laughed. Natalie was the comic relief, Blair and Jo was the old married couple, and she was the talent. They could have opened an act if they wanted to with the way things were going.

"I was thinking more along the lines of sitting them down like adults," Tootie added with an air of maturity.

Natalie frowned. She liked the idea of Jo and Blair waiting on them hand and foot.

"Did you learn nothing from our meddling at school?"

Tootie didn't need Natalie reminding her of several failed attempts as mediator. She felt that earlier years had prepared her for what not to do when it came to them. Older and wiser with a practicality on her side she ventured to impress upon Natalie the wisdom of neutrality.

"Do you remember the fight's those two had? Now ones a cop and the other's a lawyer they can do some serious damage to the other if they put their mind to it."

Natalie grumbled. Far be it for her to have faith that either woman would eventually work it out. They were adults, sometimes. They agreed on a plan of action. They would convince Jo and Blair to join them both for lunch at Tootie's apartment. Tootie would start tearing up if either one of them decided to storm out like a child. Natalie would console and scold with scolding eyes and make them feel guilty enough to stay and hear them out. Then they will note off a list of reasons why they loved each other and why this fight wasn't worth the headache they were giving the other or them.

Being in love wasn't sane and Jo resigned to that idea when her mother fell for her father. The guy was a sweet talker. While he regularly took people on joy rides of bullshit, the woman he fell in love with were most affected. She didn't think she'd be that dumb until she woke up one day realizing she was in love with Blair Warner. She recited the long list of reasons not to be infatuated when she got up in the morning and went to bed at night. When that didn't help she relied on her sheer will power. She underestimated the Warner charm, and could fully understand why people risked breaking every bone in their body for a fall like love.

Jo spotted Blair when the thought crept up on her. Through the throng outside the glass doors of David Warner's penthouse she stood with her back turned. The party took up most of the floor for special occasions such as these, where the rich and exclusive could rub elbows. It was tradition to hold a special get together of who's who before the annual masquerade gala.

The dress Blair wore fell slightly but tastefully showing a seductive line of her spine. The dress was red and thigh length. She looked elegant and very much a part of the crowd of people eying her wardrobe distastefully. Jo knew she was sorely underdressed for David Warner's party, but she didn't care how he would respond. She didn't much care what strangers thought of it, even though she had a pretty good idea. Her private school days were over, but there were some things that still stuck, nothing haunting, just things that weren't easy to forget.

When she reached the glass opening the blonde still hadn't turned so Jo admired her silently. She loved Blair. Despite how she acted she never stopped. She figured Blair knew that and still held out hope, she was always hopelessly romantic and optimistic that way. While she could stare at her for hours and admire the way the blanket of light draped her in sexy mystique, she didn't want to lose track of herself.

She didn't know how long she stood there not saying anything. She gave herself a mental pep talk discouraging her more primal needs. Then the old Polniaczek charmed reared its head.

"Nice night for murder," Jo growled from behind.

Blair turned her head slightly a smirk lifted the side of her mouth. She had felt eyes on her back. A part of her knew that it was Jo, but she wasn't brave enough to face the woman just yet. She didn't have to wait long for Jo to make the first move. Jo was always impulsive that way.

"Hello Jo," Blair said smoothly taking a sip from her glass of champagne.

Pushing off the frame she'd been perching on she responded, "I suppose you're satisfied with yourself?"

Blair shrugged in answer. "You were looking for a whore Jo I didn't think you'd mind friendly support."

"Since we're being friendly how bout I support you over," Jo gestured toward the balcony.

Blair didn't look away from her view, "sarcasm, did you learn that trick all on your own?"

"Us Neanderthals are quick on our feet," Jo leaned against the balcony with her hip eying the blonde.

"Hmmm fetch and roll over aren't doing it for you these days?" Blair's face folded in mock sympathy.

"Bite me princess," she gnarled.

"Turn blue Goodwrench," her ex countered in sing song.

Jo scoffed turning her back to her. Hands ran through her hair as she took a few paces away from the uncompromising woman. If she stood any closer she would be tempted to help the lawyer over. Her eyes trained on the inside with the guests of her David Warner's exclusive party. She came to deliver a package, but was sidetracked when she saw the vision outside.

They were relatively alone, but the muddled sounds of conversation kept her aware of witnesses. She couldn't kiss or kill her without being seen by at least one person from the party.

"There you are darling," a masculine voice broke the tension only to feed a thicker cloud. He held a glass out for Blair that she took replacing her empty glass. She allowed his hand to wrap around her possessively. Randall was pleased that Blair had been more receptive to his silent advances. He hadn't considered that the woman at his side allowed it only as a message to Jo. Randall just enjoyed making the claim. Ignoring what the gesture meant she sipped from her glass looking smugly at Jo.

The brunette had gone silent. Her eyes were taking in the couple. He was just Blair's type, the kind of man her father would be proud to have in his daughter's company. The introductions were made true to Blair Warner's sophisticated flair for theatrics. One moment Jo was ruled by reason and logic and the next by impulse and anger. Ripping Blair away from him sounded like a self satisfying idea. She thought better of the idea doing the next best thing and walked away.

She stalked through the room saying 'excuse me' and 'pardon me'. Slipping a bottle off the refreshments table she disappeared in the back to wait for Dave. Remy had followed close behind. The form fitting black suit and gloves gave him an air of mystery.

Jo plopped down in a leather chair drinking from the bottle. Remy did his own plopping on the couch, watching the one woman show. He didn't dare say a word to her tonight. He knew she was packing and he was very much attached to his life. The sounds from the main room where the suits and gowns laughed as obnoxiously as they dressed were whispers behind the thick oak of the study door. She hadn't wanted to come tonight. David had insisted.

Riven Marsh was a stout man with expensive tastes for underage Asian girls. He frequented a popular massage shop to sample and eventually purchase. She saw herself pounding into him before her fist even connected with his face. She looked at her bruised hand. She wasn't a cop anymore. She smirked to herself. What was she then? Titles were always Blair's thing. She looked at her bottle no longer thirsty, just sad. Had this moment been the point all along? She hoped not. Too much of her life had been dedicated to being something more than a rich man's lap dog.

"What are you still doing here?" Blair glared when she opened the door to the study. She had followed Jo with her eyes not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a chase. Curiosity got the better of her unfortunately.

Jo's eyeballed the couch, "Remy."

Remy's brows hiked. He looked from Jo to Blair and then back to Jo again. He knew it was a silent command to walk the debutante out. But she didn't appear like she was going anywhere with or without his help. Jo didn't sign his very generous paycheck either, David Warner did. He wasn't about to man handle his daughter over a lover's quarrel.

Blair observed him carefully. She hadn't noticed him when she walked in but she did recognize him. They had just never been formally introduced.

"Who are you?"

"He's just leaving," Jo answered before he could. Her eyes were open now disappointed that Remy was smarter than he looked. Blair stood untouched glaring at her in a dress too sexy for words.

The Cajun was undecided whether they should be in a room together, alone. David Warner had given him a rough history on Jo and his daughter. From the little that Jo shared he filled in the blanks wherever he could. These women had history and Jo was in a dark place in her life. "Think that's a good idea boss?"

Blair had questions about who this man was. And Jo had questions on why he was still here. She laughed at the concern riddled on his face. Would she hurt Blair Warner? She already had. That ego cultivated to withstand natural disasters had been bruised by the actions of a lowly Bronx mechanic. She snorted that she of all people wielded so much power over a woman, who could have the world if she chose.

"Not a strand will be harmed on the delicate Warner heiress' head," Jo held up her hand to salute. "Scouts honor," she added.

Remy sat up standing his full height. He nodded to Blair then Jo and left. He strongly doubted she had found time to be a scout in the Bronx, but he could count on her word.

A pregnant silence settled between them. Jo thought about walking away, but Blair was in front of the door and she was certain the woman wouldn't let her pass. She contemplated the window behind her, but she wouldn't be coming back from that fall.

"Why are you here?" it was the first thing that made sense to ask. Jo wasn't dressed to impress and no one just sat in her father's office.

The brunette answered with a wiggle of her eyebrows, "enjoying the view."

"Pig," disdain rolled off her tongue.

Jo shook her head negatively, "not anymore they fired me."

Blair frowned, "what?"

"The size of my balls made the department feel inadequate," the former cop shrugged, "go figure." They hadn't officially fired her yet, but she could read between the political lines.

"Jo," Blair took a step toward her.

Before Blair could say another word the door opened. David Warner waltzed in masculine and graceful, "here you are darling Randall has been asking about you and here you are." He smiled making a point not to acknowledge Jo.

Blair smiled at her father allowing him to embrace her at the shoulders. "Jo and I were just talking."

His eyes landed on the young woman sitting in his chair. "Joanne hello I'm assuming everything went well this evening?"

She nodded in answer.

"What went well?" Blair queried curious as to why her father would be so chummy with her ex.

Jo was curious how David would explain.

"Jo works for me," he stated simply, making the effort to pull her away from the room not look like an effort.

Blair turned fully to Jo and slightly away from her father's hold, "really?"

"She is a good friend of my favorite daughter, who needed a job. Her expertise as a cop is advantageous in security matters. Joanne's always been a sharp young woman."

"Security? And neither of you thought this was worth mentioning?" her voice lowered. Her father wasn't telling her the whole truth and Jo was just sitting there letting him lie.

David gave Jo a deliberate look of trepidation before he sighed. He sounded like he was telling the truth. The lie was even plausible Jo acknowledged as David brought up Jo's suspension. It was a favor for a friend of his daughters. He didn't see the harm in keeping it between him and Joanne especially since she didn't want her friends to worry.

Blair looked between her father and her ex. It was on the tip of her tongue to mention Teodor's garage and the money. She knew her father well enough to know he would just explain it away, like he had done everything else just minutes ago. If she wanted the truth she wouldn't find it here with them.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

"The truth will set you free," David smiled at the last contract he needed. Joanne had proven herself more than capable over the last few months.

"Hypocrisy at its finest," Jo intoned. She watched him from his desk.

David looked from the contract to Joanne, "what's that saying takes one to know one."

The party goers had dispersed around one. Jo had watched from a discrete distance while Blair took her place at Randall's side. They were a perfect match in stature, money, and looks. Throughout their school days Blair yearned for the knight in shining armor. Jo knew enough about Randall that he was everything Blair could have wanted in a husband. David spoke highly of the man, as if he was already a part of the family. He did it on purpose knowing Jo broke up with Blair on her own volition. Now she sat by and watched the consequences of her actions.

She had the power to end her suffering and Blair's. She wanted to be clean for Blair, to hold her without damning thoughts. Their love was a living breathing entity that couldn't be killed by hurtful words, actions, or petty vengeance. She had that much faith in them. If she said it aloud she would wince at the romance of her words. It was so out of character of her to indulge in. It was something of Blair she kept.

Remy resumed his position on the couch studying the sparring pair. Jo attacked with open hostility and David parried using cold derision.

David trained his gaze on the contract again. "Blair looked lovely this evening don't you think Remy?"

The driver was apprehensive to answer and as if sensing this, David explained he meant on the arm of Randall Weller. "If you say so Mr. Warner," he admitted impartially. Jo shook her head at the wimp of the man who worried too much about his paycheck.

"What do you think Joanne my daughter and one of the most eligible bachelors in business?" It grated her nerves when he called her Joanne. It pissed her off when he brought up Blair and a dime a dozen suitor from their circle. It wasn't in her to keep her mouth shut, even though her mouth was the root of things gone wrong in her life. David was daring her to challenge his match for his daughter. And when it came to challenges a Polniaczek didn't have the good sense to back down.

"They looked like paper board cut outs in expensive clothes."

"Is that a hint of bitterness I hear Joanne?" David teased.

Remy knew no good was going to come of this conversation.

"I think your projecting I'm just callin' it how I see it," her accent thickened slightly.

David turned his full attention to her, interested in how Joanne saw it. While Remy shifted uncomfortably from the couch.

Jo smiled smugly, "Your perfect daughter fell in love with the streetwise polish kid, you gave a rich kid education to. People ain't as cut and dry as one of your business deals. If it weren't for you, me and Blair never would've met." The smile widened, "You gave her a world, but she'd give up in a heartbeat to be with me."

When Remy saw David's face darken he knew Jo had struck a nerve. The woman had a skill, but Remy had only witnessed David at his most poised when she attacked. The man was infallible until it came to his daughter. He loved her enough to give her everything she'd ever asked so she would never know disappointment. As far as emotions were concerned David was at a loss to the pull of his daughter's heart to Joanne.

"What makes you smug? You were a pawn that forgot her place."

Every fight, every feeling of displacement, all her rage toward the rich branched, but didn't originate, from a chance meeting with a man who thought he could wield fate.

"The princess and the pawn," Jo stated whimsically, "sounds kinda romantic don't it?"

David Warner had chosen Jo. Her mother made the deal to have Jo shipped off to babysit a spoiled brat. To the casual onlooker the origin of Jo's dislike for Blair looked like it came from their first meeting. Others could even speculate that it was their personalities and station that immediately clashed. The truth, outside of their disastrous introduction, was that Jo had already been introduced to Blair Warner, or rather a file on her.

Rose encouraged her to see the bright side. While she was there the education she received could be used for a life her mother couldn't afford. Her mother asked with words, but pled with her eyes for Jo to make this sacrifice to her pride. Jo played along. But like Dave said, somewhere along the way she forgot. Beyond the spoiled, selfish, faux blonde debutante was a girl just as flawed and in dire need to be loved. They went beyond the shaky truce that opened the door to their friendship and fell in love. David Warner had to live with the fact that he was the reason for that.

The older man, with great care, put the contract he'd been admiring back into the yellow envelope. He strode over to his desk and opened it with a key placing it with the others. He paused beside her and Jo considered he might strike her, but that would be out of character. The man was an incurable control junkie.

"I would imagine unconditional love from someone like Blair is a comforting thought. She's infatuated with the idea of you but we know the truth Joanne. I paid for a playmate and you surpassed my expectations. Everything she is her noble, honest, trustworthy Joanne helped her become. Do you want that to come into question if it were ever found out why you were her friend?"

Jo fixed her gaze on him. He could be bluffing. David continued, "I would admit my culpability and be forgiven because I am her father. But honest and noble Joanne do you think you would be as easily pardoned?" He repeated honest and noble with ridicule.

Her secret was a decade old. No moment felt right for the truth. To be honest Jo had even forgotten about it until David Warner made it his mission to remind her. Would Blair love her after that? The blonde had romanticized their whole relationship. Jo helped break that fantasy with broken promises and her actions of late. Even still Blair was determined to love her. Was the truth strong enough to end them?

The consternation rolling off Joanne in waves was enough for David to be sated. Insecurity and uncertainty would fertilize the seed of doubt.

Jo didn't go home that night. Thanks to Blair she had all the perverts of New York camped out on her doorstep. Teodor had mechanics on rotation and she had two days of down time. She could have ignored the rules and went in without hassle. No, while tonight she knew it was very late, the door she headed to was always open to her.

After ringing the buzzer to 312 for over five minutes the owner finally buzzed Jo in. Climbing up the stairs the door was partially open for her. Jo shook her head. She always warned Tootie about doing that. What if some psycho happened to be roaming the halls and saw it open? What if some careless tenant let Cujo out and he attacked under the cover of night? Those kinds of macabre thoughts ran through Jo's mind with abandon. A hazard of the job was an overactive imagination in one's personal life.

She took off her jacket hanging it in the closet after she secured the door shut and locked it. She looked over at the counter facing the door and eyed the sleepy woman sitting on a stool. She didn't say anything. Jo took for granted her relationship with her friends of late. Their niceties transcended making words like 'hello' and 'how are you doing' unimportant when moods spoke volumes. Jo washed her hands then opened the fridge silently staking claim to leftovers. The box was still a quarter of the way full. The pizzeria had been a happy mistake they found near the studio of Tootie's set. The microwave was faster and more convenient but she liked the oven taste better.

Tootie yawned. Her hair was tied up in a multicolored wrap. Her striped pajama pants were stained from bleach and her white shirt was ripped at the shoulder hanging off. The paparazzi would have eaten up Dorothy Ramsey's down to earth alter ego.

Scratching the point of her nose she stared at Jo curiously. Jo hadn't been by this late, or rather this early, in a long time as she acknowledged it was two in the morning. Tootie asked what was up as if to not make a big deal of her presence. Jo's first response was on the tip of her tongue. Taking a second look at her young friend she thought better of it.

"I'm in love with a woman I don't deserve," Jo stared in the direction of the oven as she spoke. She welcomed the smell of pizza warming.

"Do what you need to deserve her," she answered simply through a yawn.

Jo turned her head moving her gaze to the tiled floor. She could try to tell Tootie the truth. Would the young woman hate her afterwards like she knew Blair would? If she was making any confessions tonight she wouldn't be sober. She walked over to Tootie's stash. She had questioned whether the actress had a problem she failed to mention when she first discovered it. The younger woman laughed it off blaming her friends, who were self proclaimed lushes. They were determined to convert her hence the plethora of liquor.

Pulling down a bottle of vodka she looked to Tootie questioningly. The actress acquiesced. Her eyebrows shot up interest when Jo turned back to her an extra tumbler. Jo smirked sliding it towards her friend after pouring a modest amount with orange juice and ice.

"You wouldn't let one of your oldest friends drink alone would'ya?" Jo teased sipping from her glass.

Tootie rolled her eyes but obliged her friend taking a reserved sip.

Jo shook her head smiling endearingly at the woman she considered her little sister. The room filled with the smell of the warming pizza. Smiling to herself when she refilled Tootie's drink and hers she retrieved the food carefully. Tootie started giggling behind her.

"Something funny light weight?" the mechanic pulled off the burgundy gloves. She eyed the drink and then her friend.

"Give me a little more credit than that," Tootie came around to fan the food. She was hungry too. "You remember when you moved into your place?"

The brunettes' eyes smiled in recognition—a chuckle followed. "Ugh that was a mess," she shook her head in memory. "The first time we all had dinner together at my place."

"Boxes everywhere nothing in the fridge, so we got the bright idea for…what was it?" She paused in thought.

"Her highness wanted the occasion to be very special. She ordered take out from her favorite Italian place."

"You remember the look on the guy's face when you let him in?"

Jo bit into her pizza chewing carefully from the heat and around her laugh. Then she stopped mid chew imitating the lost look on the delivery boys face, "uh…Warner?"

Tootie, who had commandeered her own piece, was mid swallow when she choked at the hilarious memory. She doubled over choking until it graduated to a chortle. She leaned up holding onto the counter for support.

"It was the cake!" Tootie gasped between laughs.

The former rookie's home warming gift had been a cake made with love from Natalie and Tootie. Blair's schedule wouldn't allow her to partake in the cake making. She figured she could make up for her absence by paying for dinner. The cake had arrived innocuously enough and the friends were catching up with familiar banter and horror stories from work. In a series of strange events that could be disputed by either friend on how it started, a cake fight ensued. And the delivery boy, poor guy, walked into it all. No surface was left untouched and that included body parts and clothes.

Pizza and mixed drinks were the only provisions old friends needed for the long side-splitting road down memory lane. It was close to the morning hours for the sun to rise when they were sated with pizza and booze. "I love Blair," Jo groaned aloud uninhibited and hurting. Tootie was sober enough to pull her friend into her arms and hold her. She didn't know the specifics of what was ailing Jo. Her friend had chosen a happy stupor to hide behind tonight and now after the last of the giggling had died down she crashed. Jo cried. She held onto Tootie and cried for love, Blair, her life and everything that had gone wrong in it. Jo fell asleep being held like a child and Tootie followed soon after lulled by Jo's breathing.

Six hours of sleep later keys jingled in the door.

Natalie pushed the door open and Blair followed behind. It was Tootie's day off and she and Natalie planned an intervention. Of course, it was under the guise of a homemade lunch. It hadn't occurred to her that all her calls earlier had gone unanswered because Tootie was passed out.

Following the trail of booze and pizza Jo lay on top of Tootie while the younger woman kept a protective arm around her sleeping companion. If Blair had been of sound mind and taken in consideration that Tootie was very straight and Jo considered her a sister her version of a wakeup call would have been different.

Michael Jackson's 'Dirty Diana' rang from the stereo at full volume. Blair hadn't known what song was set next to play but she was pleased with the selection. Mr. Jackson's strong vocals and the strong rhythm wouldn't be kind to hangovers. Jo sprang to her knees alert. Tootie's eyes sprang open until they closed quickly. Her hands covered her ears to try to shut out the noise. Natalie jumped even though she saw Blair turn the knob to max before she pressed play.

"What the…." Jo groaned backing herself up against the couch trying to retreat from the music.

When they were fully awake writhing in pain she turned the stereo off. In a sickeningly sweet voice laced in venom she greeted them with a good morning.

Both sets of eyes squinted in her direction. "Blair," Jo belched sitting on the couch only to lay back on it.

"I hope Natalie and I aren't interrupting," the blonde growled. If either were less concerned about their throbbing heads they would have questioned the tone.

Natalie did some questioning of her own silently.

"Oh it's too bright," Tootie put her arms over her eyes to thwart the sun.

"That happens in the middle of the day… the sun," Natalie helped sardonically.

"Crap," Jo groaned making no move to rise, "what time is it?"

"Around noon," the columnist supplied. Jo groaned even louder.

"I can whip up my not yet patented Greene hangover remedy," Natalie said over her shoulder heading collecting ingredients.

Tootie glared from her position on the floor, at the woman making too much noise in the kitchen. Jo was leaned back with her eyes closed. It looked like she'd gone back to sleeping, when it was actually a ploy to avoid Blair's gaze. A lot of things were left unsaid from last night and long before that.

Blair took off her coat becoming as comfortable as she could. The accusation in her head didn't make much sense to her, but she couldn't get the image of Tootie holding Jo out of her head. The scene had been so intimate. For a long time Blair prided herself in being the only one, who could hold Jo that way. And now, she sighed inwardly, now it seemed that she'd been replaced. She scanned the room and the leftovers from that night and the empty bottles and glasses.

"What were you guys celebrating last night?" She picked up the empty bottle.

"Yea and why weren't we invited," Natalie returned bearing gifts. Natalie smiled proudly at her concoction. It had been her own personal project for a paper she was writing for her creative writing class in college. A simple survey of drinking college students turned into several in depth conversations about hangover remedy mixes. It would have been imprudent of her not to test each despite how questionable they were. Eventually her research led her to her own mix. From her project came her concoction she endearingly named Glenda.

The offending smell made Jo jerk away from it. Tootie eyed the color in the glass about to decline it on principle. "Drink up," Natalie gestured with her hands with encouragement. "It helps if you just down it and don't think about the smell, or the taste, or the consistency, and…."

"We get it!" Jo groaned from her seat. Closing her eyes they folded deeper with the first swallow. "Ugh, what the hell Greene?" her hand went to her mouth and then at the horrendous beverage.

"Don't underestimate Glenda," Natalie nodded towards her drink.

"Who?" Tootie frowned over the rim of her glass. Natalie grinned proudly at the container holding a large swallow that didn't fit in either of her friend's glasses.

"She would name the drink," Jo shook her head stopping as soon as she felt the error of her ways.

"Really Nat?" Blair eyed the proud woman, "Glenda?"

"From the Wizard of Oz," Natalie explained. "I thought it was clever."

The drink was thick. If had been anyone but Natalie to make it they wouldn't have endured the taste.

Tootie had been holding Jo. Like they had…. She didn't want to finish the thought. To lose Jo to someone else was unbearable. To lose Jo to someone she loved like family that was beyond unbearable.

Blair took cursory looks at her watch as Jo and Tootie struggled with the drink. Natalie cheesed like a proud parent and didn't notice. Sighing heavily she stood up theatrically making a fuss of putting her coat back on.

"Where you going?" Natalie asked quickly. The reason for their being there forgotten until now.

"I came to have lunch not babysit drunk and drunker," she left quickly. All three eyes looked after her. Jo almost got up to follow her, almost.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The magazine was guilty entertainment. The lives of the rich and the famous were fodder for lowly nine to five workers like him. Remy sat in the front seat of his employer's car reading, drawn into the drama of an article about an actress getting impregnated by aliens. Being privy to Mr. Warner's routine, he had thirty minutes left to finish up on the article. The man enjoyed his spa days almost as much as his daughter did hers.

He frowned with the thought of Blair Warner. He admired her from behind the safety of his shades. He knew any overt admiration wouldn't be appreciated by two certain people he happened to work with and for. He flipped aimlessly through the pages when he considered his predicament. His job for the most part required him to be deaf, dumb, and blind. He was good at that. Being in the type of home he grew up in with his dad and mom yelling only moments after they put him to bed, it was skill he needed if he ever wanted to sleep.

From his peripheral the door to the facility was opened and David Warner strode out casually. Any stress he shouldered before walking in looked to be properly relieved. Remy with practiced ease exited to open the door. The older man stopped to look up at the larger man. Remy kept his eyes forward until he noticed the curious gaze trained on him.

"Sir?"

The wind blew gently, but the wisps of David's hair bent to its will. Outside of his unruly hair his five hundred dollar tailored suit and his concentrated gaze showed nothing but control.

"You've worked closely with Joanne," David looked at him pointedly.

Remy nodded his head even though it wasn't a question.

"Do you like her?"

"As much as she allows anyone to like her, sir," he answered carefully.

David smirked knowing how true that statement was. He settled into the back seat and Remy closed the door behind him wondering where that came from. David would protect his daughter from anything especially herself he felt that she wasn't making a wise decision. Remy shook his head walking around the car. Nothing set right with him of late, and that included his interest in Jo.

The record was thirty in the row. Green eyes stared at the target. Aiming and then releasing with a flick of his wrists he would have won if a shoe hadn't pushed it. The small crowd erupted in groans. Louie glared at the foot and then the shapely leg it belonged to, rising to the shit eating grin. Wary eyes tracked the blonde passed Jo's former desk to Louie's side.

"Louie."

"Miss Warner," he stood quickly. He'd only been introduced to the heiress once or twice, so he kept it formal.

"Blair," she corrected. She looked at the glances from the other officers at the desk. She was always too busy to visit Jo at work. And whenever they had lunch dates they would always meet up somewhere. Jo never wanted her there.

Her eyes raked over the room with an inquisitive gaze. Desks were littered around the room all piled high with papers. There weren't telling pictures of family. She supposed that safeguarded the numerous criminals from getting too close. The room was alive, but the room had a stark serious quality. It wasn't a room she would have wanted to spend five days out of a week in.

Some cops wore uniforms while others suits. She remembered how Jo looked in her uniform when she first became a cop. There was something about a woman in uniform that did things to her, but she preferred her laid back Jo. Her face softened and she was at her most unguarded in jeans and t-shirt.

"Blair," the cop conceded, "Jo's not here," he wasn't sure if his friend told her anything about the suspension so he kept it vague.

"I came to see you actually," she smiled charmingly.

He found himself returning a smile that wasn't nearly as eloquent.

"Are you free for lunch?" Blair looked at his desk full of paper crumbled in balls.

He followed her eyes to his desk shrugging, "slow day."

When he collected his jacket and they walked side by side out to Blair's car. He stopped to stare at it causing the heiress to stop in question. The last time he'd been in a limo he was burying his mother.

"Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head looking down the street. "You came here to talk about Jo, we can talk and walk. There's a deli two blocks down with a very tasty lemon pie."

Blair's head reared in the direction of the deli and then the cop. She turned to the driver, who held the door patiently for her. She relayed that she wouldn't need his services and told him to wait.

Two steps into their uncertain silence Louie broke it, "my mother died and I haven't been able to look at a limo much less get in one."

Blair's eyes widened, "oh…. I'm sorry I didn't know."

"Yea," he shrugged pushing his hands to the bottom of his pockets.

"Jo was great at the funeral and so was Dorothy," he reminisced.

Blair frowned. She didn't remember Tootie ever mentioning that to her. Then her mind moved to the events of earlier today, the way they were laid out holding each other. It bothered her that Tootie and Jo had become so close.

"It's good that she has someone like Dorothy with what she's going through."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked testily, "going through what?"

"Look Miss Warner," he started slowly taking the woman in. His private musings on Jo and Blair as friends left him wedged between incredulity and impractical. Jo explained their dynamic once as a smoothie. He interpreted that in his own way because she hadn't explained further. He saw this woman on the arm of prominent men from the community. She was worth more than the guys at the precinct would ever make in their lifetimes combined.

Park Avenue, as Jo sometimes called her with an endearing lilt, eyed him curiously as he continued, "Jo should tell you this or at the least you could talk to Dorothy."

"Why would I talk to Dorothy?"

"If you can't get the truth from the horse's mouth I figure the girlfriend's the next best thing."

Usually he wasn't so callous with Jo's sexuality, but Blair grew up with Jo. He knew that despite their many differences Jo considered her family. He looked at her expression carefully but she didn't show a hint of shock. They stopped. Strangers passed them on the street. Some glanced in their direction and others passed by without a glance. Blair kept her face neutral of the surprise she felt. Tootie and Jo, the idea of the duo as a couple rang in her head like a bad headache.

"I suppose you're right," she smiled. He reached for the handle of the deli door, but she shook her head. Whatever appetite she had when she left Tootie's apartment had long gone after this news. She declined graciously claiming she didn't want to keep him. Louie didn't think anything of it remaining polite and oblivious.

Blair strode calmly to the car that sat waiting. She settled into the seat grateful for the traffic. When she reached the office some time later and she closed the door gently. She felt comforted by the leather of her chair. When the clock informed her of the time she stood and walked down the hall to the conference room. Her movements were second nature and perfunctory. Two back to back meetings kept her undivided attention. Her ability to compartmentalize grew better as time passed. For hours she pushed Jo and Tootie to a corner of her mind she would revisit later.

Her colleague, Roger, took the lead with the meeting. It was an import/export deal with a new Asian client. Blair spoke the language fluently, but spoke only when she needed to. It was the strategy for Roger to take the lead on the meeting, since they were more comfortable with working with men. Usually that fact bothered her, but she didn't pay it any mind.

The second meeting she took on more of a responsibility. It was a long standing client that wanted more reassurances on security during shipments. The contracts would be drawn up new legal stipulations. Blair played charming well. No one had assumed that she was hurting on the inside.

She walked in her office with her head in files. Vesper smiled as she passed, but it went unnoticed.

"Hello sweetie," a bouquet accompanied the greeting when Blair crossed the threshold into her office.

"Randall?" her mouth curved upward on cue. She walked by him with a peck to his cheek before she lay down her files.

"I wanted to surprise you," he came up behind her smiling in her hair. "You look ravishing."

She didn't feel ravishing, "I'm wearing a work suit."

"You're the only woman I know that makes business formal look so….sexy," he growled the last part. Dipping his head at the nape of her neck he let his hands rest languidly at her hip. The bouquet lay forgotten on the table.

She responded moving her neck to the side to give him better access. She closed her eyes feeling his lips, but an unwelcome face popped into her head. She opened her eyes. The reflection of both her and Randall met her gaze.

"I want to take you out tonight," she felt his smile widen against her skin.

"I have a lot of work to do."

He stiffened at the excuse. He pulled back enough to put distance in between their bodies. His hands were still firmly holding her waist. He brushed his thumb along the fabric, before he answered, "I'm sure can wait until tomorrow."

She moved around the desk. He frowned at the added distance, "I wouldn't brush off your work Randall I expect the same courtesy."

"Brush off?" he repeated curious. "Am I missing something?" She answered with silence. He pulled in a deep calming breath. He prided himself on his ability to be enduringly patient. Blair tested his resolve, but he always acted like a gentleman. Randall didn't know where her anger was coming from; he knew he hadn't initiated it.

"Is there something wrong?"

There was plenty wrong. Blair wouldn't say the words out loud, at least not to Randall. He wouldn't understand that she was in love with a woman. He wouldn't understand the rage that pulsed through her at the news of Jo's new relationship. They flaunted it in her face for lunch. And then she had to hear it confirmed from an old friend of Jo's. It shook her to her core to feel like her reality was being ripped from her. Jo was hers. Who was Tootie to waltz in and seduce the love of her life?

Different emotions played over her face. She'd almost forgotten Randall was there until her eyes focused again. He studied her with concern, but she shook off her trepidation.

"It's been a long trying day," she said softly with her half truth.

Randall wasn't a fool. When he was approached by Blair's father to instigate a relationship he relished the blessing. Women fawned over him and Blair was a rude awakening. At first her aloofness was a challenge he enjoyed. The pleasure of the chase only heightened by the pedigree of a woman that most found unattainable. There was more to Blair's long trying day, but she wouldn't share it. She always shared just enough and then shut down.

Sighing heavily he followed the same path she took to distance herself. He grabbed her hand, but left her ample space.

"I'm here for you."

She looked at their interlocked fingers. His hands were considerably larger than hers. There was a thin row of hair on the outside of his hand leading to his palm. His hands were manicured. Jo's were harder from working with them so much. There was no threat that would get the headstrong brunette into a nail salon. Caught off guard by the raw emotion of pleasure she smiled at the memory. Blair didn't realize how Randall might have interpreted the smile. A hand reached under her chin and coaxed her head upward until their eyes met.

"I'm here for you," he repeated with more conviction.

Jo slammed the door behind her. The couple at the other end of the room jumped. Blair didn't seem pleased to see her, but she knew better than to make a scene in front of Randall. Randall spoke first turning fully to acknowledge Jo.

"Jo isn't it?" he smiled thinly, irritated at the interruption. Blair visibly stiffened when she walked in the room.

"Randy," she never took her eyes off of Blair; she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets ignoring his outstretched hand.

"Randall," he corrected.

Jo grinned looking at him for the first time since she walked in, "Randy, you think me and Blair could talk alone for a sec?"

"We were headed out for dinner," Blair interrupted.

Randall smiled at the news while Jo's stomach dropped. It wasn't new for her to announce that she would be going out with a beau, but Jo was out of practice to brushing it off. She was either never around or too absorbed with her own thoughts to care. Unfortunately when Blair left that morning, it meant that she had to face off with Tootie and Natalie alone—with a hangover. It wasn't her ideal afternoon.

"We need to talk," Jo countered planting her feet as if she thought Blair would resort to shoving her out.

Clenching her jaw, she turned a kinder gaze to Randall, "could you give us a minute."

He replied with the brush of his lips on her cheek and moved to leave the room. Jo watched him close the door more gently than she had when she first came in. She shook her head.

"He's dashing," she stated sarcastically motioning with her thumb.

"Among other things," Blair smiled too sweetly for Jo's taste.

"Does he know about your extracurricular activities at my apartment?"

Blair's face flushed, a hand rested on her hip while the other played with the stems of her bouquet. "Did you come here for a reason Jo?"

Jo was smiling inside, this is exactly what she wanted, confrontation. It was as sweet as the hum of the engine of 76 Corvette. She stepped towards Blair. Her eyes traced the line of Blair's stance until they landed on her lips.

"You left so quickly this afternoon you missed all the fun."

"Well I'm sure you and Tootie were having enough fun for all of us last night." Her inflection was unmistakable and Jo was left with a less than intelligent response.

"What?"

Blair pinched the bridge of her nose turning away from her.

Jo continued. "I don't know what kind of high priced drug your own but you're definitely getting your money's worth."

Blair whirled around quickly. Caught off guard when she realized Jo stood within inches of her reach. And while it was just that comforting to be this close again, memories from their last confrontation were still raw.

"I know," Blair's accusation was ground out through clenched teeth.

Jo took an unconscious step back, she often enjoyed the blondes rage, but this was different. She tilted her head going over in her head what Blair was talking about. There was a long list that Jo didn't want to dwell on that Blair didn't know. Since 'Columbo' claimed to know whatever it is that she knew Jo wasn't going to give anything until she found out.

"And what's that Blair?"

Jo could see how much of a chore this seemed for Blair to say, "You're sleeping with Tootie."

The mechanic's brows jumped, "….Tootie?" Jo looked dumbly at the lawyer.

"Tootie," Blair repeated solemnly hoping she didn't sound as hurt as she felt.

Jo would have laughed. She would have laughed hard. Instead, she was interrupted by Blair's latest love interest reminding her they needed to hurry before they ruined their reservations.

Blair couldn't be reasoned with when she was like this. Jo didn't have a level head. She watched him take liberties while putting her jacket on, and Blair let him. Sucking in her first reaction she turned on her heel. Blair watched her go from the corner of her eye. Jo hadn't denied it, she would have rather Jo denied it.

The brunette had come to rant after she spent the remainder of her afternoon stewing. She didn't have anything specific, just a general idea of what she'd yell about. This was how they communicated in their best and worst moments. But Blair was dismissing her for a dinner. Dismissing her like some common servant she owned. And to top it off she thought she was sleeping with Tootie. Tootie of all people, she stopped a sardonic chuckle from erupting at the notion. She watched the doors to the elevator closed and used the back wall to hold most of her weight. What was happening to her? What was going on with her life? Question such as these spun in her head left her ungrounded.

Blair would be having dinner with some handpicked David Warner look acolyte. What would her life have been like if she had never met David? It was a question to mull over while contemplating the meaning of life. If she hadn't met him then she would have never met her friends. If she hadn't met him she'd probably be dead. If he wasn't so smug about all the good he had been the cause of then she could grin and bear it. Though, David's specialty of late was getting on Jo's nerves with his stance of superiority.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

"What's with everybody thinking me and Tootie have a thing?" Jo growled pushing passed her former partner.

Louie closed the door behind her following her with his eyes. She went in the kitchen where he heard her open the refrigerator. She glared at him and settled on her couch like a patient would in their shrink's office. He chuckled at the idea of him as a shrink.

"I think you make a cute couple," Louie shrugged.

"She's like my kid sister!" Jo yelled with reproach.

Louie kept his mouth shut. Jo lay on his couch and he took the arm chair his mom liked when she watched her soaps. Now months since she passed he could still smell her perfume when he sat in it. Another sigh signaled a request for another beer. The one she had in her hand rested on her stomach as she looked up at the ceiling as if it had the answers.

"Your kid sister's hot," he handed her a bottle. The smirk on his face dropped, "what?" Jo just left it at a glare. "So who's everybody?"

"Blair," Jo groaned petulantly.

"Oh," he said a little too guiltily.

"Just oh?"

"Not just oh," Louie confessed, "when she came by the job I thought she knew and told her type 'oh'."

"You what? You told her me and Tootie were…." She trailed off, "great," she breathed.

She wasn't worried that Blair knew she was into women. Jo was focused on the fact that he shared that he thought she was dating Tootie. Relying on his powers of deduction when he spoke next, "how was I supposed to know Blair was the one?" He settled his drink on his knee. What he was asking didn't escape him.

"You didn't," Jo clipped then after a pause, "she's not."

Words were easy. I hate you. I love you. When the emotion strikes they roll off the tongue. That's where actions came into to clear the confusion the fogs of words rouse. When the emotional high dies down from the declaration the only thing left is the show. She had a key to his place she rarely used especially in the last few months. But today out of the blue Jo was here ready to rant about her day or rather a part of her day that involved a woman she claimed not to love. While he fetched her beer, because she was too depressed to move, he was amazed at how intelligently slow his friend could be.

"She's not?"

"No…." Jo drawled lazily, as if she wondered if she actually believed her own words

"No?"

Jo sat up suddenly, "you gonna play parrot or am I gonna get a little intelligent conversation here?"

He held up his hands "I'm flattered you think I'm capable."

"Keep up," Jo blew out dropping back on the couch. Beer sloshed on her shirt and she mumbled, but didn't get up to clean up the slight spill.

The doorbell rang.

"You expecting anybody?" she hadn't bothered to move when she asked.

Louie stood ignoring her question to answer his door. She heard a familiar voice and growled when she heard an additional set of footsteps head into the den. She closed her eyes intentionally.

"Hey Jo Po," Senior's nasal voice greeted her annoyingly. "King Louie didn't tell me you were here."

She opened them enough to eye him through slits. She lifted her drink in acknowledgement it was more polite than ignoring him. Senior and Louie were around the same age. They knew each other for over fifteen years roughly since their academy days. Senior rarely if never left off the King with Louie. The older man had explained one night that Senior's Sicilian roots explained the name. His love of Louis Prima had inspired the name. The famed trumpeter voiced The Jungle Book orangutan King Louie. The older man felt like the name was meant to be.

Jo usually avoided hanging out with Louie with Senior around. He was tall and meaty, with a mustache and a gap that everyone saw with his overly friendly smile. "I wish I could lay on my ass twenty four seven now," he joked.

Jo opened her eyes, "some of us have jobs and others of us get suspended for doing our jobs," her jaw clenched. She wondered if she could take him, then she wondered if he would take her in for assault of an officer if she gave into to urge to punch him. In effort to not tempt fate she mumbled an excuse that she had to leave.

He reached out to her arm in a half grab, she looked down at it and he pulled away. He held up the first flag. "The captain's head is so far up bureaucratic ass it wouldn't matter if you were a skirt or not," he spoke.

It was strange. When she pursued the case all she heard was that she was letting her feminine sentiment cloud her judgment. She took being the precinct punch line in stride, because she knew she was right, unfortunately a child had to pay for an investigation that hadn't mattered until she ended up dead. And even after that her killer was never held accountable.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she found herself saying. Her faith in the law was waning. The reason she had stopped the social work, was to help people beyond the limitations of a desk. As idealistic as that was for her in her early twenties she sought it out. She took scum in and had encouraged a few kids to make small changes to their lives to do better. But when it came to money and power what did her badge mean when people like March saw it as no more than an accessory.

"He would throw any one under a bus to keep his position. Don't take it personal its politics," he shrugged.

"I didn't wear a badge for politics," Jo didn't like being a toy.

He scoffed, "justice?" he finished the thought in her head. "That's a wet dream you gotta let go of. The real difference between the rest of us and you," Jo looked at Louie who had yet to say anything to the contrary. "Is that while we were thinking of bashing March's head in you actually did it. Damn the consequences you put a big dick in his place, but now you have all the time in the world to drink beer and play mechanic and he's not even in prison or dead for your trouble."

Jo lowered her gaze. She felt like child for asking, and a part of her hated herself needing to ask, "Then what's the point? A paycheck?"

Senior shrugged, "everybody's got their own reasons."

She nodded absently. She never thought that anything Senior said would be worth mulling over, but she was wrong. She told them goodbye and headed into the chill of the evening. It was a bit windy, but she decided to walk. She thought of everywhere she could go. She discarded each option as she thought of them. She didn't want to be around anyone, but she wasn't too psyched about being left alone with her thoughts. Going over to Louie's should have been more relaxing, but it hadn't.

She thought about Blair. At that same moment she happened to be passing a phone booth. She looked at it and then jingled the coins in her pocket. She could make a call. Her interactions with Blair made her feel bad afterward. Though hearing her voice seeing her were comforts that Jo anticipated despite the aftermath.

Coins fell into the slot and she dialed the number she knew by heart. Blair had looked busy with her new beau. She pulled the phone away from her ear on the third ring. It was then inches away from being placed back on the receiver that she heard someone answer.

"Hello?" she heard the voice again.

She let Blair wait for an answer until she heard another voice in the background. Jo closed her eyes slamming the phone down with force. She fled from the phone nauseated by her jealousy. She was living in a dizzying stupor that held nothing but questions for her. Questions she couldn't answer just yet.

Randall smiled into Blair's neck. He didn't see the troubled look she wore. When the phone rang they were on a pleasing path. Clothes were being pulled gently, but not insistently, not yet anyway. Randall was genuinely eager to see the body that clothes hugged so well. Although outside of sleeping with him to spite Jo there was no more fervor in her to meet Randall's genuine passion. Her attraction was shallow, and if there was a future for them it would be made from artificial affection and nothing more. During the dinner he brought up her father, the company, books, movies, and community gossip. He wasn't lax when it came to conversation.

Now he was kissing her. In the same intimate way that Jo had kissed her. The familial technique was pleasurable. But his hands bothered her. Randall and she had chemistry, but she had fireworks with Jo. She smiled and giggled and Randall, not for the first time, mistook himself as the cause. Sometimes Blair let him think that. And other times like tonight she pulled away and brought work up as an excuse to end the night early.

His exasperation was obvious, "what are we doing?"

"Enjoying each other's company," Blair answered simply, because that was how she saw it.

"But always to a point," he countered. He knew Blair knew what she did to him. Her reputation painted her as an infamous tease. But he took the information for what it was—gossip. Randall underestimated her resolve. Advancing their romance both reasonable and pleasure seemed elusive.

"A point that I am more than happy to indulge until I'm ready," she reasoned. His frowned deepened at the news. "Unless you would want to rush me into something I wasn't ready for?" she studied him.

When he sighed his chest rose from the long breath deflating with its release. "You're right," he had let his frustrations get the best of him.

She reached out to place her hands on his chest in a gesture of comfort. His hands were quicker and grasped her wrist gently, before placing a kiss on the inside of each hand. "I don't think that would be a good idea," he pointed out weakly.

The blush that followed was uncontrollable. She knew what she did to men, but Randall was overt in his appreciation for her attentions in a way no other man had been.

"Goodnight," she smiled at him and he returned it not trusting his voice. She watched him leave. Blair let him have his distance to calm down and strode to the kitchen when she heard the door close from his departure.

She pulled out a refrigerated bottle of wine to pour a glass. She stared into the den at the hearth. Cuddling beside it when the weather was chilled was something she often enjoyed. She couldn't wait until the fall.

"Romantic lighting," she heard Natalie's voice and immediately turned a light on in the kitchen. "Mood music," Blair rolled her eyes at the way that Natalie exaggerated the syllables of the words. Natalie and Tootie rounded the corner met by a glaring debutante holding a glass of wine menacingly.

"Are you done?" her lips pursed.

Tootie shook her head making herself at home. Blair followed the younger woman with her eyes. Tootie looked up to meet Blair's gaze and paused at the look. She didn't have enough time to question it when Natalie barreled through the quiet with a tirade about work. Her tone changed hinging on excitement when she brought up a new columnist from Chicago.

"I suppose one could say he was handsome if one were into that type of thing," she ended after sharing how her colleagues had herded in the break room just to talk about Daryl.

"Is that right one?" Tootie leaned in looking at Natalie pointedly.

"What?" her friend squeaked. Daryl had been useful because of his background as a criminal journalist. He helped her with her new project at the behest of her editor when Daryl had made it clear that he wasn't interested in taking over Natalie's story. She respected him for that. Her own smooth talking and her boss's aggravation at losing stories with potential kept her on the trail.

"You want to take this Blair or should I?" she asked turning to Blair to catch that look again.

Blair jumped then took a sip from her glass to play off being caught again. She could acknowledge that Tootie's transformation to Dorothy had been an interesting childhood. She had grown up from a brace faced kid to an attractive woman. Though she had never contemplated her beauty beyond a passing appreciation, now she was practically studying her. What had Jo so wrapped up in her? Was it her eyes? Jo always admired her eyes. They were the gateway to the soul. Had she seen something more in Tootie's? And if she did what was it?

"Tootie's only pointing out that this columnist is the only person you've actually mentioned without making the stink face."

Said face made an appearance when she started to deny Blair's accusation. Tootie began laughing and Blair noticed that her face lit up attractively when she did. To move the conversation away from her undetermined attraction to her boss she frowned at Blair then her friend. With unsubtle grace befitting Natalie she pointed out Blair's staring startling the blonde.

"What, I'm just admiring an attractive woman of another ethnicity," she defended lamely.

Natalie and Tootie shared a look then simultaneously returned their gazes to Blair, "Blair," Natalie started slowly, "Are you putting the moves on Tootie?"

"No," she answered quickly and a lot louder than she planned.

Natalie looked unconvinced and Tootie just frowned, but kept quiet. She shook her head turning to the sink to wash her glass after she gulped the last of it down. When she turned back their expressions had become pensive even after she announced she was tired and going to bed. While they could have executed part two of mission intervention with Blair, they thought better of it. Part one hadn't gone over well with Jo. She had basically run out the room when she found she could move without the world spinning.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

"After carefully reviewing your jacket and your behavior before and after it is the official ruling of this committee that you not be reinstated."

The breath that Jo had been holding onto had released coolly. Her back sat rigid and she looked her superiors in the eye as they dryly gave her the verdict she'd been waiting for. If she had been a man then they would have drawn out the suspension. If March had been any other pervert she would have had a parade.

The countdown to this moment had been tedious. She wasn't one for patience. She hated not knowing if this part of her life was coming to a close. Now here she was in a room with five other men, who took it away, not knowing what they were shattering. She detested giving them the power to do so, but the hell if she'd show it.

"You used excessive force and your actions were deemed unbecoming of an officer. You knowingly injured a man and failed to report it further endangering his life." The older man with sagging skin and graying hair spoke in monotone. Unflattering caricatures involving the chief of police, a donkey, and a tennis ball were passed around the office. The brunette thought the cartoonist was an optimist. He gave their superior more emotion than Jo ever thought the man was capable of. Jo's face didn't break in disappointment or pain. She had loved the job. She enjoyed making a difference. The badge didn't make her, but it had helped to complete the part of her that needed to be active to make a difference.

When the official pleasantries were over Jo looked over the committee. They were all older men wearing crisp suits and medals. They had never wanted her there. The resentment drove her to do better and excel where her male counterparts didn't. She was smart and capable and even now she could see them looking her over putting her in a dress. When her eyes landed on her Captain Gale, he wore a smug smirk like he had won, and he had.

The former cop stood and turned leaving the white walled room. She didn't meet the curious eyes gazing at her after she walked by them. Her chin didn't tilt. This would be the last time some of them would see her and she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing beyond her mask. If she had bothered to look around she would noticed a familiar blonde head scribbling notes in a pad. Natalie was just as unaware.

She stopped at the steps of the council building. She looked at the street aimlessly. Remy stood outside in the car holding the door for her. She didn't speak and neither did he. She wasn't too devastated to notice that he wasn't yapping away. The change unsettled her. She glared from the back in the rearview mirror.

"Are you sick?"

"What?" he didn't expect her to speak, "uh no."

"The garage," she growled. There was plenty of time in their drive for him to speak. It was distracting to obsess over his reserved behavior.

"Did someone die?" she asked absently.

"No."

Jo settled into the silence coming to the only conclusion that made sense. Teodor's garage was closed today. Another Wednesday he would be spending with his wife. She figured they were happy. Where most men usually complained about their wives, Teodor was always careful to say nice things. She'd only met the woman once and from that meeting she could assume the woman was worthy. She had to be worth it with the kind of courting Teodor put himself through to get her back.

Remy stayed uncharacteristically silent for the entire trip. Jo obsessed for the remainder. The key in her pocket jingled when she made a move to get out. Remy usually didn't let her get that close before he sprinted towards the door. "You coming?" she asked meeting his eyes in the rearview.

He started from his thoughts and then worked on his seatbelt. Jo was already out of the car to unlock the garage door. Outside of the windows above the garage was darkly lit. She heard Remy stumbling behind her before she turned the light on in the office. He followed her more confidant in his gait.

Her blue jacket lay open and a beer rested in her hand. She took liberties with the old man's stash since knowing she'd replace what she drank. She handed one to Remy. Considering he was going out of his way not to be annoying, he wouldn't be rude now and decline a drink. She leaned back on the couch and watched him stiffly sit beside her leaving a huge gap. She appreciated the distance. But it unsettled her that he didn't try to get into her personal space.

She found him a lot more tolerable as a companion when he wasn't talking. She noticed the dirty glass of Teodor's office. He really needed to clean that, she thought.

"You haven't asked me how it went," Jo pointed out.

Remy took a drink to avoid speaking. Mr. Warner had warned him not to get too close to Jo in the beginning, but she was easy to like, that's what brought him here.

Remy shrugged, "if you wanted me to know you'd tell me."

Jo laughed finishing off her beer tearing at the label. She stared at it, but paid attention to Remy's body language. "Why do I get the feeling you already know?"

He cleared his throat and started fidgeting taking another drink. Jo smirked, the man should never play cards in the near or distant future with his tells.

"You knew before I did didn't you?" the question was accusing, but her tone, devoid of emotion, lessened the sting. He choked on a gulp and Jo finally eyed him in his coughing fit. She leaned her forearms on her knees now interlocking her hands. Remy, the self proclaimed man at the bottom of the food chain, knew about her official dismissal before she did. There were one of two reasons to contemplate, and Jo wasn't convinced that the man was omniscient.

"David's been pulling strings hasn't he?" she asked her final question. There gazes met, and even though Remy had yet to say a word the man was too much of an open book to hide the truth. Jo could see it. Her instincts told her something was off and Warner was in the middle of it all, like he always was.

She settled back tossing her hat off watching it slide across the table to the floor on the other side of the small office. Remy didn't need to betray any confidences. She knew Warner would make her pay for being with his daughter. She couldn't give him all the blame for losing her job. From the looks on the committee she didn't look like she had any fans.

"He's not done Jo," Remy offered against his better judgment.

David liked to play with his proverbial food. The brunette heard all the seriousness in her friend's tone and believed every word of it. Though there wasn't much left for him to take.

"Captain Gale," Natalie stood abruptly catching up to the wiry older man.

The captain turned. He looked her over debasingly before his eyes roamed back to her eyes and the other tell tale signs that this woman was hunting for a story. "No comment," he allowed before carrying on.

"Wait," Natalie followed undeterred.

"I hardly think a disgraced cop is worth media attention," he called over his shoulder.

Natalie didn't let on she didn't know what he was talking about, "God help us if the day ever comes when the media is run on what you consider news worthy." She moved faster in his profession Gale deflected nasty comments like that all day long.

Taking a shot in the dark, "disgraced cop slash millionaire mathematician and murdered girl sounds like a Josephine Tey novel."

The older man whirled around. She struck a nerve, smiling inwardly.

"Media hounds don't care about the truth or who they hurt by twisting it."

"We're not all made from the same cloth," Natalie smirked, "but from an outsider's point of view it sounds bad all around."

He closed the distance between them. Natalie stood her ground fighting the urge to retreat. "Charles March was the victim of an overzealous cop's delusions. Polniaczek no longer represents the department. Whatever she might have said reflects on her resentment of her suspension and subsequent firing."

She couldn't follow if she wanted to when he entered a cruiser. She remembered her notes and the seemingly clandestine photograph of Captain Gale and Charles March turned overwhelming. What was the great mystery? What did it mean? And Jo, what had happened with the case? She remembered the media coverage. There were no reports that Jo had been suspended, hell, Jo hadn't even said anything. The case wasn't sound enough to hold March. The media waned, reluctant to give up the coined 'March Molester'. Perhaps there had been more to the story obscure by money and a certain Captain.

"I promise you you're the last person I wanted to see today," Jo groaned sitting up from the dolly.

When Tootie didn't glare or offer sarcasm as a reply that was all the indication Jo needed. The younger woman knew. She was close to the twenty four hour mark and here she thought she was home free for a day, she was wrong. She smirked and shook her head wiping her hands on a cloth in her pocket.

"Good news travels fast."

The actress waited a whole hour after hearing the news to seek Jo out. When Louie heard and not long after called her. He didn't know if he would be welcomed, but he knew she wouldn't turn away a childhood friend. And Jo didn't. Instead she stood taken aback by the smaller woman plowing into her arms. The hour wasn't enough time to find sentiments suitable for comfort. Where words failed the actress hoped a friendly hug would convey.

Unfortunately walking in with preconceived notions of the duo Blair eyed the embrace darkly. She had come to talk to Mr. Adamnski about the distribution of funds through a Warner account for vehicles. Teodor noticed the woman before the two women did and introduced him as the owner.

Blair thoughts of retreat were deterred by the man's introduction. She smiled lightly this was the last place she wanted to be. She took the short trek to Mr. Adamnski's office. In resentment she eyed the duo. They had been so wrapped up in each other they didn't even notice she was there. She watched the other man make himself comfortable behind his desk after he closed the door behind them. She decided to stand. While she told herself she stood to stretch from sitting at her desk all day, she knew differently.

She questioned the older man distractedly. Her eyes found Jo and Tootie no longer hugging. Jo was rummaging through tools while Tootie's mouth moved. They stood close, too close for Blair's liking. She sighed reminding herself that she no longer had a claim to the woman, but the part that wouldn't let go was telling her differently.

"I'm sorry that you came all the way here for no reason, but all our paperwork is in order." The sound of paper slapping his desk got Blair's attention. She moved turning her back to the window for the first time since she walked in.

"So it does," she admitted troubled by her father's signature. If he were using Jo as a mechanic then why lie about the innocuous profession? And why was Jo a mechanic? Obviously this was something she didn't mind sharing with Tootie.

"Well at least you're thorough," he tried to make her feel better. He thought it odd for her to be inordinately disappointed, but women were sensitive creatures, even if they were lawyers.

Blair stood holding the file, not looking at the words anymore. Her head lifted expecting to see Jo, but Tootie just stood alone looking down. Returning the folder she her smile was brief stating she could see herself out. When she walked passed this time she made sure that she was seen. Tootie smiled when she saw her and Blair realized where Jo had disappeared.

"Blair what are you doing here?" she queried the smile faltered a little. Blair assumed it was because of a guilty conscience.

"Roughing it," she looked down as Jo rolled out from under the car. The mechanic stood up looking at Blair, but she didn't bother to speak. Tootie followed her, but she kept a careful eye on Blair and her not so congenial smile. "I'm not in the mood Blair," the brunette pointed out straightening up her tools.

The blonde's eyes narrowed, "how convenient," she eyed Tootie and then Jo's back. She could give Tootie a hello hug and not her? Not as if grease and silk went together, she narrowed her eyes on Tootie's sweater stained by Jo's overalls.

"What are you doing here Tootie?" she queried as lightly as she could manage.

"Um…" she started knowing it wasn't her news to share; she looked at Jo, who still had her back turned. "Just visiting," she answered.

"Oh?" Blair glared into Jo's back.

"Is there something wrong with coming by the garage?" Tootie frowned. Blair had been looking her weird, but now she had a tone to match. It was a tone that she wasn't appreciating being directed at her.

The heiress answered in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Jo would have seen it if she turned around. Tootie had a clear view of it and couldn't say she cared for it. Something was going on in Blair's head. Blair feigned being concerned by the time leaving the younger woman confused. Jo pushed her frustrations focusing on her indifferent visage. A short visit by Teodor, after Blair left, shed some light on the real reason she stopped by. Jo listened intently even though she looked to be more concerned with cleaning her tools.

When he was out of ear shot Tootie hit Jo's back for her attention, "what was that all about?"

"What?" Jo turned toward her slightly. Blair had figured this much of 'the mystery' on her own. It was a matter of time before she was completely unsatisfied with all her father's excuses and went searching for the truth. She didn't know how she would feel about that. It hadn't crossed her mind until today that she would seek answers. She was always under the impression that the women questioned her father in earnest.

Tootie had noticed the change of Blair's behavior. The looks and the tone added up to something familiar. But the actress had only seen it in other women, who thought she stood in the way of their careers or their men. Jo agreed with the younger woman's reservations. Succeeding against quiet shock Tootie found words again only to marvel how Blair could assume she was a rival.

"I don't get it."

Jo shrugged not understanding it herself. The answers she could offer left holes that only Blair's jaded psyche could fill in and apparently they had. In her head Tootie and she were living in the happily ever after that should have been theirs. Fortunately Blair had only been proactive with making Jo's life a living hell. She never wanted a friend to pay for anything that involved the mistakes she made.

"Just drop it alright?" It came out as a question, but it was a clear cue to end the conversation.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Power and love are desired entities that most people spend their lives for. Sometimes they're attainable and other times the reach is too far to even attempt. Poverty of wealth and the heart are afflictions that Randall couldn't write a book about, but he was familiar with both. He saw it on television had heard conversations and even read books about them, but there wasn't something he could consider himself an expert of.

David like power and money and in his mind Randall was a man after his own heart. He'd spent years letting Blair make her own decisions about the person she would spend the rest of her life with. When he found his inaction had gone awry he made moves to rectify it.

They often had lunch around this time. They would talk shop and David could act like the concerned doting father he had never been. Randall didn't need to know that he was a pawn to kill the last bit of affection he knew his daughter held for Jo. This extra time with his future son-in-law allotted time to make 'suggestions' to woo his baby. Randall, none the wiser, took the information in stride developing a fantasy of his own about what his life would be like when he was at the reigns of Blair's life. It wasn't a position her father would give up easily, but if he played the cards right he could convince David to relinquish it.

Jo watched Lorraine sleep. The woman's face was still swelled, but she didn't look as bad as she first did when she was brought there. Remy called in a physician that first night to look after her care. She was given a clean bill of health outside of the swelling and bruising. If they hadn't gotten there who knows what Bell would have done to her.

"Who is she?"

Jo turned frowning at her unexpected visitor. David Warner had more right than anyone to be there since it was his apartment she was using. That didn't stop her resentment that he came and went as he pleased in a place he freely gave. But she supposed forfeiting any privacy was one of the prices she had to pay, which was why in all the months it was available she hadn't used it until now.

"Someone who needed help," she admitted reluctantly. She moved and relaxed in the den. She didn't want him near her charge.

"I didn't give you this place to make it your own personal half way house," David sat across from her. Jo studied their positions always on opposing sides. It was the reality of their relationship since they met.

"She doesn't concern you," Jo knew he was searching for more leverage.

The older man pursed his lips. "She does when she is accepting Warner hospitality by staying here and cared for by my doctor."

"Not everyone is a power play."

He sighed. "There's a lot of potential in you Joanne, get over that big block of integrity in your path and you're no different than me."

"I like my block," Jo deadpanned.

"What's it done for you so far?" He shifted in his seat, his hand braced on the sides of the chair.

"I can think of one big thing." Warner quirked his brow for her to continue, "it reminds me I'm not you or the Charles March's of the world."

"Obviously it's not so bad being a silver spoon," he smirked referring to his wealth and all the luxuries that came with it.

Jo narrowed her eyes, "for now."

"You don't get your man detective, you don't get the key to city, and you definitely aren't getting the girl," he crossed his legs letting his ankle rest on his knee.

Jo clenched her jaw. Doing him physical harm would be selfish and satisfying, but she knew couldn't, not yet. She let David Warner take his proverbial victory lap. There was always something that could tip the scales. Over a decade of having one of the most conniving best friends had taught her some things. She never knew when she had to use them, but they were part of her repertoire when the occasion called for it.

"So is that all?" she asked bored with his company.

"No," he continued, "I actually came by to drop off a gift," he pointed toward the miniature box that sat on the table.

When her gaze landed on it she didn't let her brow furrow, but she was wary of its contents. She made no move to open it. David didn't wait for her to if he thought she would. Just as quietly and quickly he had come he left in the same fashion. Jo leaned on her knees and looked at the box. It was lavender with a pink bow. She grimaced inwardly at the color choice. Blair would have appreciated the design more than she.

She looked up at the door where he disappeared. There was no one else in the room for her. She tipped the box open to peak at first. H er eyes narrowed. She dropped it on the table and stared at it the necklace. She lay back into the comfort of the chair. It was a modest trinket she took care to choose. It was going on the neck of one of the most beautiful women in the world after all. Blair had loved the gift even though she had her choice of diamonds and pearls when it came to jewelry.

She said she would never take it off. The mechanic succumbed to a flurry of emotions closing her eyes. She didn't wipe away the tear that fell. Instead Jo felt it fall down her cheek to her chin and drop somewhere on her shirt. She remembered Blair wearing it at the ice cream parlor. She tried to remember if she had seen it when she barged in her office. David could have duplicated it. He'd admitted to knowing about them. There was no reason to believe that while he had them watched he wasn't taking notes on how to break them apart. David was as meticulous with a plan as Blair is with her wardrobe choice and a lot more dangerous.

She leaned forward sighing picking the necklace up. She held it to her face looking at the heart twist and turn. Blair had smiled with joy when she woke up with Jo trying to sneak it on her neck. Jo's smile was bittersweet then it dropped into a determined line. She collected her jacket after checking on Lorraine and leaving a note just in case.

Jo hailed a cab and gave the driver Blair's address. When she slid back in the seat she watched the city as they sped by. Lights were still on and Jo looked down at her watch to see what time it was. She found only a bare arm and wondered where she left it, and then she remembered she showered at Tootie's that afternoon. Her lip twitched recalling Tootie and Natalie's intervention. They had the best of intentions, but even that was too unexpected for Jo.

When the cab stopped she paid and jumped out the car without a second glance to him. She didn't notice as it left. Her eyes were trained on the stoop and then the house that it led to. She took the steps one after the other almost wishing there were more. Coming over felt like a good idea with raw emotion coursing through her veins, but now she wasn't sure. The lights were off and Jo wished that she knew what time it was. She hadn't thought to ask the cabbie, he would have known.

She turned before she felt something in her jacket pocket. She looked down at her tools and then turned back to the lock. She remembered she used them to break into the Bell home. One second of thought was all she allowed herself to think about what she was doing. A few moments of tinkering and she was inside. Jo opened the door slowly and quietly with practiced ease. She was a professional at sneaking in since the tender age of twelve, when she was young and stupid. Some could say she was revisiting that now.

The door shut with a click. When Natalie was having trouble with rent Blair proposed she stay with her. Blair paid most of the rent lessening Natalie's stress to keep up. Tootie was the first to volunteer, but her place was too small for the both of them and a terrible commute to Natalie's job. Jo had only been here a few times, but never in Blair's room. She looked at the hallway at each door willing one of them to tell her if Blair was behind it. In all probability she wouldn't be happy to see Jo. But her feet wouldn't move to retreat. Her hand closed around the charm and suddenly she was filled with the emotion that brought her out tonight.

"Blair," she whispered harshly. Distancing herself was a long forgotten tactic she pulled on like a second skin when David reentered her life so proactively. Now all she wanted was for Blair to understand that everything she did and had done was what she needed to do. It sounded convoluted even to her even when she didn't say it out loud; perhaps that was why she'd avoided talking about it to anyone. They would think she was over complicating the situation when in fact she wasn't.

Her head immediately jerked in the direction of the front door. She heard it open. She looked down the hallway with the closed doors. She assumed earlier that they were both asleep. She strained her ears to listen. She heard whispering. The sets of voices sounded like they belonged to a man and a woman. Jo frowned she couldn't tell which roommate it was. Her heart sank at the possibility that it was Blair.

Moans replaced talking and Jo for a moment forgot herself and slammed her head against the frame of the wall. The thud was louder than she anticipated and she stopped to listen hoping no one noticed. When the moaning got louder Jo realized it definitely wasn't Blair making the noise. She knew that sound very well. No, Natalie was getting it on with a mystery man and couldn't remember Tootie making mention of a man in her life right now. She had been busy, but Natalie and Tootie weren't subtle about their love lives.

"Yes," Natalie hissed and Jo groaned inwardly. She was stuck. There wasn't another way out and the only way she could escape was passed the two people in heat. It would be a very awkward conversation and she no long felt like a confrontation with Blair would be good considering. She heard a door open behind her and she immediately jetted towards it. Covering Blair's mouth with her hands she moved them back into a startled Blair's room.

A muffled protest erupted from Blair. Working on pure instinct and a few self defense classes she threw her knee upward. Jo groaned then collapsed when she felt something hard and boney connect unkindly in between her legs. Her arms went up futilely when something struck her over and over. In the dark, however, she couldn't anticipate where Blair would strike next.

"Hey," Jo growled, "stop!" Jo struggled to stand but kept getting beat back down by whatever it was that Blair was hitting her with.

The screaming startled the duo in the living area. Natalie and her friend moved hurriedly to the origin of the noise haphazardly pulling their clothes together. When they reached the room, Natalie, more familiar with the architecture, found the light and switched it on.

"It's me!" Jo yelled needlessly now that Blair could indeed see.

Blair stopped herself mid attack when she saw her former lover balled up on the floor. She heard the yelling and the voice had registered on some level familiar. She wasn't going to take the chance to be raped because of familiar.

"Jo?" Natalie frowned. Her friend hauled Jo up and held her looking to Blair.

"Are you ok?" he asked glaring darkly at the intruder as Jo yanked her arm away returning the sentiment.

"Fine," she huffed. Her breath came out fast from the exertion of beating her friend into a pulp. Jo looked at the weapon and smirked at the toy bat she gave Blair a year ago. It was a souvenir from a game a Yankees game. Blair claimed it was hideous, but obviously it had made an impression if she still had, even if it was for a weapon.

"You sure?" he looked Blair over to make sure Jo hadn't harmed her.

Natalie pushed passed him to join in, "of course she's fine the only one here that looks like they need medical attention is this one. Are you ok?"

"Is she ok?" Blair asked indignantly, "I'm the one that was attacked."

"I didn't lay a hand on you!"

"What do you call putting your hand over my mouth?"

"I just didn't want you to interrupt Tarzan and Jane in the living room."

Natalie blushed and her friend's face reddened as well, but neither woman noticed. Natalie knew that whatever else either one of them said wouldn't be welcomed or acknowledged. Her investigation into the department's investigation wasn't far from being broached. Though, she didn't think it was the time or the place to talk. She pulled her curious companion from the room and shook her head when he opened his mouth to speak. There was no point in interrupting their argument. Perhaps this is what they needed anyway, a confrontation to let out all the tension.

"Why are you here?" she placed her hands on her hips with a determined stance.

The question prompted Jo to close her mouth swallowing the reply on the tip of her tongue. She knew why she had come and now standing in front of Blair it seemed like a stupid gesture. What had she come here and expected? Blair was angry with her, it made sense for her not to want Jo's gift anymore. In school it wasn't uncommon for Blair to discard gifts when she found a suitor unworthy of her affections. Jo had proven herself unworthy and Blair had finally gotten over her. It wasn't something she wanted even though Jo's actions up until that point said the opposite.

"Nothing," she responded sheepishly.

"Nothing?" Blair held up her bat, "you risked getting beat to death for nothing?"

Jo quirked her brow at the weapon.

Blair tilted it challengingly and Jo started towards the door, "where are you going?"

"Leaving," she didn't bother to turn, if she had she would have ducked. Blair swung hitting her hard on the back of the head. Jo stopped in her tracks.

"What was that?" Jo held the part of her head Blair smacked.

"A goodnight kiss," Blair answered smartly.

"You…if you hit me again…." Jo trailed off wishing for something inventive.

"What?" Blair stepped forward in challenge. Both hands held the bat ready to strike again.

Jo looked down at the offending object and for the first time wondered if that it was actually a good idea.

"I'll hit you back," Jo finished. She turned fully to the heiress daring her to take a swing.

Blair smiled thinly. She lowered the bat down to her side and nodded her head. It was only until Jo turned around to leave again did she strike. Jo whipped around grabbing the bat first backing Blair up to the bed. She fell on the mattress when the back of her knees gave out at the impact. She lay breathing heavily. Jo noticed that her top had opened slight letting the curve of her breast peak out in greeting. There was nothing especially sexy about her pajamas, but she learned a long time ago Blair could make anything she wore work.

"Are you going to hit me now?" Blair husked angrily. She was aroused. Jo made her aroused and she hated that fact. She wanted to hate Jo, but it was hard to separate rage and lust when it came to the cop.

Jo leaned over resting on one hand while the other kept a tight grip of the bat in the other. She never expected to give into Blair. This was when the debutante was at her sexist. In her natural form without all the makeup just the look in her eyes was enough. It also helped that she knew the woman wouldn't be wearing anything underneath.

Closing in on Blair's lips Blair thought about smacking her. She wanted Jo to hurt as much as she did. It was physical pain, but at least it would be something. Her plan was to let Jo kiss her and then retaliate with teeth instead. The plan had gone horribly wrong and instead she responded whole heartedly with tongue.

They grappled for control of the kiss. All their rage and frustration melded, battled, and bent with both their wills. Neither was ready to give up power and neither would. Jo pushed Blair farther of the bed straddling her. She threw the bat away not caring where it landed. She was too focused on her body and the woman underneath her.

"Jo," Blair moaned when she pulled her mouth away and let the brunette attack her throat.

The mechanic whimpered in answer, but Blair forgot what she was about to say. This was what she had wanted. This was what Jo denied her for months. How she and Jo would feel after didn't matter. All that mattered was here and now they were together. It felt good to be underneath Jo, even as she acknowledged the thought she pushed Jo aside and claimed the top.

Jo leaned up as much as she could pushing away the hair that had fallen into Blair's face. It wasn't usually unkempt so Jo took pleasure in the moments that very few people were privy to. Blair was all control and shallow to a point, but not now. She loved Blair. And for the first time in months she wanted to say the words out loud. She wanted to give Blair back everything she had taken and denied. Everything that included what David Warner said she could never have.

Jo eyed Blair's hips as they moved against her stomach in a silent rhythm. Jo grunted biting the bottom of her lip becoming painfully aroused. Blair, ever the extrovert, brought that energy into the bedroom. It was a show that Jo came to anticipate enthusiastically. Jo rose to meet her half way when she leaned down but instead Blair pushed the other woman away.

The mechanic dropped her head back down to the mattress. Her chest rose and fell as she stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Licking her lips catching her breath she leaned up on her elbows. They stared at each other breathing heavily.

Time felt at a halt lost in each other.

"Lay with me." Jo coaxed her further caressing her thighs through the fabric of her pajamas.

The blonde acquiesced after a moment of hesitation. She fell gently on her lover's chest. They didn't speak their truce and the blanket of silence was too fragile to ruin with words.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

The morning air was a mixture of smells unidentifiable in their origin. Remy just liked to call it 'city smell'. He leaned against his car casually a newspaper in his hand. He didn't usually do newspapers, but he needed the distraction. The driver knew how much Mr. Warner hated when he carried around his infamous gossip magazines. The daily funnies were the compromise. Warner could be consoled that passerby's would be under the impression that his driver looked like he cared about daily news. Remy got paid well enough to do the things he liked just as much as he did the things he didn't much care for. Standing outside of his daughter's home, knowing full well Jo had spent the night fell in the latter.

Remy looked up when the door he'd been waiting to open finally did. He saw a glimpse of surprise on Jo's face when she stepped out, but she recovered quickly. Blair looked curiously at Remy over Jo's shoulder noticing how it stiffened. She didn't think it was coincidence that he was here, especially since the last time she saw him she saw Jo giving him orders.

"Who is that?" she leaned against the door frame. It was wide enough to see him but his view was obscured by Jo standing in front of her.

"Business," Jo answered noncommittally.

She tilted her head. He smiled acknowledging her and she returned the gesture. "And what am I?" She could find out what she wanted about the mechanic's friend later. Right now she wanted to know if Jo regretted their time together.

"Beautiful," Jo caressed her cheek much like she had done the previous night.

"Jo…" she sighed ready to voice any uncertainty she felt when Jo pushed her in closing her hand around the knob she pulled it.

"Shut up Blair," she claimed the blonde's lips and her waist with a firm grip. The kiss was meant to reassure her, but that didn't stop the debutante from wrapping her arms around her neck. The door shut with the force of Blair's pull. They slammed against the wall together and Blair dragged her arms to Jo's center.

Jo pulled away their lips inches from the other. Their breathing heavy mingling while hands roamed eagerly indiscriminate. "You love me," she reiterated from their altercation at Jo's. The brunette smiled knowing. Before tonight she probably could have given her a convincing no. But she liked the sound of the words too much to argue.

She pulled away making promises to come by later that evening, "if you want to see me that is," Jo offered.

The moments where Jo discarded her own bravado took Blair's breath away. She fell more in love with each piece of the puzzle that was Polniaczek and she still wasn't tired of piecing her together. She lowered her eyes to Jo's mouth, "did I kiss you like I don't want to finish what we started?"

Chuckling at the response Jo dropped her head for a chaste lip lock. It had been her idea to just hold each other last night. It didn't feel right to be with her until she knew everything. And she did intend to tell her. Jo knew she was a bastard. It just wasn't her ambition to be a well rounded one. Their promises weren't set in stone, but they might as well have been with the way they were determined to make them an 'us' again. Jo had been a fool wallowing in blind self exile. Blair had been a fool for her letting her as if she cared less than she actually did. They weren't going to let each other go.

Jo practically skipped down the steps. While she glowed her counterpart glowered folding his newspaper under his arm, "you're playing with fire," he said barely audible.

She wondered briefly why he was whispering but settled into the backseat without question. When she met dark eyes she answered the question. She didn't have time to speak before a fist shot out. What the hell is it with Warner's hitting me lately? She queried to herself holding her busted lip. Jo could take a hit. The shock came from the sneak attack and who'd been behind it. She pushed the pain aside enough to smirk.

"Good morning to you too Dave," she chirped feeling her lip throb.

He glowered with his fist resting on his knee clenched. Jo eyed the fist. This was a side of Dave she had never seen before. She liked it. It was something that not only she could relate to, but manipulate. Because he drew first blood, Jo felt like she had the upper hand now.

"What were you doing there?" he asked with controlling rage.

"You're a smart man, put two and two together," Jo taunted, "or would you like a diagram?"

"Before last night I thought you had the potential to be a smart woman Joanne," his voice was strained.

"That's funny," she began, "I see last night as a wakeup call. Before I let go of the very thing I should have been fighting for and now there's no way in hell I'm letting her go."

David scoffed. "It's taken me four marriages to know what you fail to realize Joanne. Fairytale endings don't exist. This can only end badly for you."

"Stop the car Remy," she called out feeling the older man's eyes boring into her. She met them. They both had made their intentions clear. Neither would back down. Remy stopped. Jo exited the car closing the door after her. The vehicle sat unmoving even after she walked away.

The driver stared after the woman knowing no good could come of Jo's rebellion. Sure her strides belied assurance in her decision to metaphorically spit in Warner's face, but the aftermath had the potential to be devastating. If love inspired insane risks like going up against a man like David Warner then he wasn't interested in it.

Daryl Ronson had been a homicide reporter for all of six months before he realized he like the lighter things in life. A diet of blood, pain, and more pain wasn't healthy for anyone to ingest if they didn't have to. Instead he molded his talent to provoke emotion with another type of news. He took pride in his column even if his viewers knew him as Gladys Lorring. The gift of gab was what made him an exceptional writer. Being raised by his mother put him in touch with his feminine side. The two attributes merged to create a successful column that newspapers vied for and finally The Times won out. He had no loyalties in Chicago and it was time for a change of scenery.

The Times was a lot busier than the moderately small paper he came from before. He appreciated the beauty of the gritty city and the other small joys it offered namely, Natalie Greene. He reacted to her sharp sarcastic wit and immediately found a kindred spirit. She of course thought he was too idealistic for reality, but he countered that maybe some time with her would ground him and he could find a happy medium. The blondish brunette obliged and before long lunches became dinners and dinners became heated make out sessions after hours in her living room.

He was having fun and he hoped she was to. Unfortunately last night was cut short by the screams of her roommate leaving him wanting. Today he admired her chewing at the end of her pencil while she wrote with purpose. Her gaze never lingered, despite how much he had willed her to look in his direction so that she would know his private hell. He smirked to himself and then headed over with two cups of coffee. One black just like Natalie liked it and the other full sugar and cream enough to induce a sugar coma as his mother joked often.

"Morning," he grinned placing the glass on her desk.

She looked at the offering and then the man the offering came from. "Hey Gladys," Natalie stopped typing long enough to take the pencil out of her mouth. She loved that the world didn't know that the middle aged lady looking at them from their paper was really a Harlequin hunk. She teased him constantly about the ruse, but it was all good fun.

"What's that?"

Daryl lowered his voice, "a bribe."

"For?"

"Attention," he smirked leaning over to see what she was writing.

"Hey hey buddy top secret," she plucked him away from her screen.

He threw his hands up in surrender laughing as he left her desk. Usually they chatted a little longer than that. She didn't dwell on it assuming she looked as possessed as she felt, until she saw a sticky note under the coffee cup she began to sip from. Natalie recognized the writing and then smiled at the time and place scribbled on it.

She had planned on working late into the evening. But with a gust of anticipation for the next six hours she was determined to get as much work as possible done. She wanted to spend the evening in the arms of a Harlequin romance hunk. She'd never admit to him that's how she saw him. It made her look shallow and she didn't want him to think that she saw him as just a piece of meat. Though the writer found it liberating to be on the other side of the exchange she found demeaning.

She stopped herself from giggling uncontrollably. She had said goodbye to giggling Natalie in High School. It was more mature to smile in sultry mystery. She laughed at herself focusing on her notes. She talked to Mr. Rodriguez the little girl's father; he was a mess, which was understandable. How long did it take to get over someone they loved especially family? When her father died she took it hard and no time felt right to feel better. In time the pain had eased to a dull ache. Fortunately she hadn't turned to darker vices to hide from reality, Mr. Rodriguez on the other hand had.

They had talked for an hour. An hour was all it took for the man at his most vulnerable to share what he should have told the police all those months ago. Charles March had hurt his little girl.

"_He hurt her in a way a father should never let a man hurt his blood."_

_His eyes were haunted and Natalie didn't know what it said about her, but she couldn't feel sorry for him. Daryl, who had been looking around the room, stopped his perusal to stare speechlessly. His face betrayed his feelings, but Mr. Rodriguez was too focused on self deprecating to be concerned with being judged._

While he told his side of the story he didn't leave out any unflattering details. It was only a matter of time before he put himself in a liquid coma if the empty bottles around the room were any indication. The father lied for a paycheck at his daughter's expense. One socially apt man was held unaccountable because another was just as corruptible as Sophia's father. She could clear Jo's name. She had the power to tell the world about what happened to Sophia.

Blair pulled her gaze away from the contracts her father had sent over. She hadn't even been aware her father was interested in the March computer company. The name that hiked her delicately plucked eyebrows up left her even more curious than her father's unexpected interest. She looked at her watch. Her father was in a meeting and wouldn't be out of it until after lunch. She moved to pick up the phone, but didn't know where to call Jo. She had hours until they met up last night.

Unanswered questions were falling like the unyielding rain outside. Too many too count, but Blair felt the blow of each droplet tax on her psyche. Her father was a businessman. He made no apologizes for the sacrifices he's made to stay on top, and if he did she doubted they were sincere—even to her. His tenacity meant bull dozing people on a regular basis; it was something that came with the territory.

For the first time in a long time Vesper noticed her boss smiling. Since it was her business to dissect every expression to gauge her performance she was apt to the many faces of Blair Warner. Today her smiled hadn't been particularly aimed at her, but it was genuine. The morning had been going well despite the rain.

"Good morning Ms. Warner," Vesper came in carrying her pad. Earlier she delivered a cup of coffee and a bagel that she noticed Blair had yet to touch. The young woman noticed and frowned wondering if she had done something wrong. It was a cold rainy day and Blair's mood mirrored it the assistant noticed, she hoped she had doing nothing to feed it.

"Was the coffee and bagel not to your satisfaction?" she asked dropping her pad already making a move to rectify whatever mistake she made to her employers morning meal.

Blair shook her head waving the young woman away. She needed to get some work done and distracting herself with her secretary checking off her responsibilities of the day would have to do.

"Warner," a voice rang from the door as uninvited as the owner who waltzed in.

Stopping from making an audible groan Blair plastered a mirror of the faux smile for her visitor, "Roger."

"Lovely weather we're having isn't it?" he glared at the spacious view. He would kill for her view.

"I have a lot more pressing matters than the weather to attend to," though he ignored her critical observation with little heed. Roger folded his hand and peaked at the flourish of papers on her desk, "pressing matters as in…the contracts of the purchased shares of March's company. The old man does love paper, pen, and legality."

Blair sighed at her own curiosity and dismissed her secretary.

"How would you know about it?"

"I wrote it," he smiled inordinately proud of himself.

_Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together._

_- **Vincent van Gogh**_

Remy sat in his car eight minutes away from the Warner building. He knew his boss hated when he was late, but there was no getting around the traffic from the work being done to the streets. He had the brilliant idea to leave early, but that just insured that he stayed in the line longer. He groaned leaning his head back into his seat. He watched the rain falling and the wipers clear the water in a mechanical rhythm. Craning his neck he found his magazine and smiled reaching for it. At least he could catch up and use the distraction to ignore the horn blowing frenzy.

The passenger door opened abruptly. A wet Jo Polniaczek dropped into the seat hurriedly closing the door behind her, "…like cats and dogs," she mumbled.

She threw the limp newspaper Remy assumed she used to fend off the rain with, on the dash. When she turned her attention away from her soaked person she focused on the befuddled driver. In the short time they knew each other Jo was privy to a few facts that accumulated into what she thought of the Cajun driver. She liked him. On a scale of one to ten she could give him a safe, but sure five.

"What are you doing here?" He noticed the cut on her lip and then looked around outside needlessly. He was safe from the prying eyes of his boss, who sat in a high rise in a meeting with only thirty minutes left.

Her hair fell matted on her forehead but she didn't bother to move it. She turned fully in her seat, her clothes in their condition, made an otherwise silent shift into a production of wet sound. "I have a proposition."

The driver shook his head as Jo waited coolly until he finished, "no I'm not going to get involved absolutely not…my job…I love the money I do some shitty things, but I love the money." He watched the wipers feeling safe to train his eyes on them and not Jo. "You know what it's like to be poor and then…..to have the security of a job like this, for a man like David Warner."

"People like you are the reason he has this insane god complex," Jo shifted again. The red lights from the cars brought color to the gray morning.

Remy scoffed, "you are people like me Jo."

Their gazes didn't meet and the car stayed quiet until Jo answered, "I know," she lifted her head and turned to him, "but I'm done."

It was stated with so much conviction Remy didn't want to contest it, even if it felt better for him to have company. Warner, both of them, had had their claws in Jo a lot longer. He wondered what she was like before meeting them—he knew that he was less morally contemplative.

Jo watched him clench his jaw, "I'm not even supposed to be talking to you."

"I'll do all the talking and when I'm done I'll never jeopardize your silk cushion again ok?" The nod was there, but if Jo hadn't been paying attention she wouldn't have caught it.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

David sat at the head of the table. Watching as another presentation of sales and investments filled the wet morning, he was seconds away from calling it to a stop. He was more than restless. It was hard to ignore the wrench in his stomach when a memory of Jo's eyes glazed with satisfaction when he hit her. It had not had the desired effect. Violence was predictable that way that is why usually he refrained from using it.

He clenched the hand that connected with her lip. He ran his hand over the knuckle. He had meant to greet his daughter this morning and give her a ride to work. From the tinted glass he could see the brunette exit the house looking very…satisfied. There were few moments that his cool veneer cracked. Joanne had been the reason for the two that came to mind; each one included his daughter in some way.

The lung had been out of reaction. An emotional fault that couldn't be rectified and in all honesty he didn't want to. He was sharp and quick and not usually a trade sadist, but Joanne was a personal project. David had already consoled himself that he would take his time with her. It was strange that even with the things that had gone wrong in her life she was still determined to be a pain.

"Mr. Warner," a whispered in his ear shyly, "this came for you," she handed him an envelope.

He looked at the envelope not looking up at the woman or the curious gazes aimed in his direction. He half expected to see nude pictures of him and some tryst, but he knew better than that. He wasn't as careless as his other protégés even more paranoid about what could get out and destroy the dynasty that he had built.

In place of a photo was a contract. His brow furrowed and the rest of the room escaped from notice as he read skimmed through it until he finally found the reason for it to be sent. He set his jaw curious as to how she pulled this off.

"Mr. Warner?" a brave executive interrupted his reverie.

David looked up acknowledging the speaker, "what?" he answered more brusquely than he intended, "we'll finish this tomorrow," he continued and stood to leave.

While inquisitive glances were exchanged no one offered a protest. They watched their boss head out of the office like a man, who owned the place, and since he did he could do whatever he pleased.

He took the elevator his first instinct was to press the first floor, but he chose his daughter's floor. He ran the contracts through his legal personnel before and after they were signed, it was just his way. He paced in the elevator unhappy at the speed of delivery. When he did reach the floor he pushed passed the duo waiting to get on. Whatever dark remarks they had didn't go any farther than their personal musings, that is, until he was out of earshot.

Vesper stood up quickly to greet David, but he ignored her just like he had done everyone else in his search for his daughter. Not bothering to knock he entered Blair's office unannounced.

"Mr. Warner," Roger's glared transformed into a wide welcoming smile. Blair smirked amused by how quickly his lips puckered whenever her father's ass was in his vicinity.

"What is this," he seethed slamming the contract, crumbled at the corner from his grip, into Roger's chest.

The man frowned never remembering a time when Mr. Warner was displeased with his work, when he realized it was a copy of the contract he was bragging about.

"What's wrong daddy?" Blair stood from her desk. She had never seen her father so demonstrative in his discontent.

"I don't own these shares why?" he tried to calm himself in front of Blair. "Have you read these?" he picked up the pile on her desk seeing another name repeated where his name should be. He hated when things didn't go his way and usually he kept a cool head. Joanne, however, inspired a primal urge that ended with images of his hands around her neck.

"Yes," Blair chimed in slowly showing her confusion.

"I….I…I…I don't know about this sir," he answered just as baffled.

"Then what the hell is it I pay you for?" he ground out inches from the other man's cringing figure.

Roger gulped and while the blonde wasn't fond of her coworker she didn't want anything ruined in her painstakingly decorated office. "Daddy," she said in a hopefully soothing voice brushing her hand against his arm. He was stiff with rage, but she prodded further until he took enough steps back to lessen her discomfort. Roger was appreciative as well breathing a brief sigh of relief until he heard the words 'you're fired'.

David didn't give the lawyer a second glance when he turned his back. In truth Roger had been a loyal employee. His work was exemplary, but he couldn't afford a staff of incompetents. The contract had to go through several hands and it took an unmarked envelope to tell him what Roger should have, that he made a mistake.

"Daddy," Blair started but his hand went up to stop her from speaking.

"Not now princess," he was thinking. Joanne had pulled a fast one, but there still was a card he could play. He turned to Blair. He never liked to involve his daughter in his dirty deeds, only when it was necessary and there had been quite a few necessary times over the years. She always forgave and understood if she found out he was using her, he always sugar coated it with a gift.

He doubted what he was about to propose next would garner the father of the year award. But in retrospect he'd always coveted the businessman of the year award more. His eyes darted to his daughter's door when Vesper interrupted to say she had a call from a Ms. Polniaczek.

"Put her through," he demanded forgetting he had an audience.

Words were sometimes an unfortunate way to communicate. Often when they matter most they halt their travel at the throat. Jo had spent her morning trying to decide how to tell Blair about her. Blair deserved the truth no matter how badly it ended for the former cop. She held onto the phone waiting patiently for the blonde's hello. However, she hadn't expected the voice she heard instead.

"What the hell have you done?"

"I want to talk to Blair."

David looked at his daughter as he said she wasn't available to come to the phone, nor would she be for Joanne. The brunette bit the bottom of her lip glaring at the cracks on the sidewalk. The man could grate her nerves like a pro.

"Where are you?"

Jo's glare moved to the phone then she slammed it on the receiver. She ignored the looks in her direction and headed toward the building holding her favorite and least favorite people. Security didn't give her a second glance when she moved through the turning doors. The elevator ride to Blair's office was going too slow for her tastes. And while she would have appreciated the exertion of running up the stairs she needed the energy for the confrontation ahead.

"Daddy what's going on?" Blair kept her tone calm even as her aggravation evolved to anger.

David ignored his daughter's question. He didn't think his daughter would look at him the same if he knew how deeply involved he was with unscrupulous affairs. He knew his daughter was a highly intelligent woman, more worldly than most. But being a father wouldn't end until after he was long gone. Until then that meant doing everything his power to preserve her image of him. Sure, she knew that he could be cutthroat in business, but to her knowledge he had never exercised that initiative outside of it.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with princess," he plastered on an assuring smile, but in seeing her jaw set he knew she wasn't going to drop it.

"It becomes my business when it involves my...," she stopped short to catch herself, "friend."

The patriarch caught the pause and his hackles rose at the possible words that 'friend' replaced. He often thought a confrontation of their affair would be wise. Then he considered the words that would come out of her mouth, words he didn't and wasn't ready to hear.

"This is between Joanne and I honey," his tone had hardened.

Blair tilted her head frowning now, "what are you talking about?" she stepped toward him, "you've been hiding things from me daddy and I don't like it. I turn a blind eye to business because you're a businessman, but I grew up with Jo I care about her. I don't want her to get hurt."

"You think I would hurt a friend of yours?" he mirrored the tilt of her head with one of his own. He never dwelled on his daughter's perception of him. All she had ever given him were kind words and warm welcomes and an endless supply of 'I love you'. Where in any of that had she gotten the idea that he was capable of hurting someone on purpose? It didn't change the fact that he could and did, but it was always something to shield his baby from. Through her eyes he could be the perfect father despite the unworthy title.

Blair shook her head lowering her head, "what do you expect me to say daddy?" She sounded lost and hurt, "I know what those contracts mean and I know you when it comes to business."

Sighing he smiled at his baby girl. "Life was so much easier when all I had to do was buy you ponies and pearl earrings when you were a little girl."

"Is that what you want to do, distract me from the truth?"

"What's so great about knowing something that can hurt you?" he began his play of words to manipulate the conversation.

"Hurt me?"

"I made a mistake pumpkin one that I did because I cared," his opening offered introduction to a deeper conversation.

Jo walked in to hear the last part.

Blair's hair whipped over her shoulder as she returned her gaze back to her father when Jo entered soundlessly. He took a step toward her and then made a dramatic pause and turned to Joanne. If he beat her to it, it made her out to be the one keeping secrets. For him to lament and confess he could show his daughter how deep his internal turmoil was over the role of the untruth.

"Don't choke on that line of bull," Jo folded her arms in disgust.

"Wait!" Blair exchanged a look with Jo then her father. Placing a hand on her forehead she closed her eyes and left it there when she spoke. "Why did you give the maintenance contracts of Warner vehicles to a shop in the Bronx where Jo happens to work? And when I talked to the owner, he said he had Jo to thank for the business? And why don't the numbers match up with how much it should really cost?" She met their eyes again, "why are you lying to me?"

Jo tightened the cross of her arms before dropping them at her side; they didn't stay there for long. She brought them up to piece together a sentence that wouldn't get anything thrown at her head. But softening the blow wouldn't make the news sound any better to hear. David saw her struggle, but when he jumped in, it had little to do with lending aid.

"Joanne and I have a complicated history."

"What kind of complicated history can develop over a handful of meetings?" Blair didn't like where this was heading.

David took control again steering it away from recent events Blair inquired about, "I'm the reason that Joanne went to Eastland."

"What?" Blair shook her head smiling away her father's absurdity, "Jo was there on scholarship."

The older man shook his head and Jo watched not believing how easily he could warp this to his advantage. He took the long pauses. He made sympathetic overtures. David was a pro at this game and Jo realized that perhaps giving Monica all the credit for Blair's diabolical side may have been rash.

He shook his head slowly his eyes met his daughters, "I wanted you safe and looked after and I knew you wouldn't appreciate armed guards."

"So…you what?" the truth was forming slowly against a resistant psyche.

Jo stepped toward Blair to finish, "I needed the money," she started then amended her statement, "my family needed the money. And this suit offers my mom a paycheck every month and all I had to do was go to school and….," Jo trailed off losing steam. Ignoring the situation had only made explaining it worse.

"And what?" the blonde narrowed her eyes waiting for Jo to carry on.

David jumped in, "I paid her to be your friend."

Jo's face folded, "no," she shook her head. "No, I mean that's how it started out," she tried to convey what she felt without saying the words. Blair was still unaware David knew about them, and there was already one big secret out of the bag they didn't have room for two. "But this spoiled self absorbed assembly line Barbie brat grew on me… until growing on me turned into a being my best friend."

Blair glared, "the scholarships that you lost? The money troubles at home?" she tried to piece the moments from their past into a cohesive memory. It was a lot of past to pick through, but the common denominator came from Jo's underprivileged roots.

The older man interrupted Jo before she had a chance to answer, "Joanne was never genuinely in financial peril."

Blair gasped making a sound like a choke, as if she were trying to speak with disobliging words. Jo glared, "shut up," she held up her hand, her mouth curved upward nervously as she continued to talk directing the words to Blair. "My mom waited tables for guys that thought pawing at my ma came with the special of the day. I didn't think about who you were when I took the deal. I just thought of the hours my mom could cut back on at a job that took so much outta her."

Blair's eyes dropped, but Jo continued needing to say her peace even as the heiress closed herself off in front of her. She avoided Dave's gaze and focused on the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. "I planned to be fake…and then I met you," she trailed off letting her tone say the rest. Their first meeting had been disastrous. An uncensored Blair and an equally unrepressed young Polniaczek unintentionally foreshadowed their entire friendship from one introduction.

"Oh." The first words Blair had said since Jo stopped speaking. Jo hadn't anticipated immediate understanding, but the delivery left the mechanic wishing for more emotion. The bad thing about the socialite, that had only gotten worse over time, was her ability to hold a grudge.

"Princess I know it was wrong of both of us for this charade."

"Charade?" Jo mocked the word, "I lied, but I never acted like someone I wasn't," Jo interrupted taking another step towards Blair. She was on the brink of damning how her father or how Blair would respond and take the blonde in her arms. Jo was always better hands on rather than living everything up to words. Using words for her were as much of a gamble as a weekend in Vegas.

"It's funny Tootie was so worried about taking acting courses," she chuckled humorlessly, "and all she had to do was take notes from you."

Jo's heart sank at the comment knowing Dave's swelled. This was indeed happening. She was losing Blair and she knew she deserved it. For months this was what she wanted for Blair to accept and say goodbye. But the sensation never lasted and this moment illustrated why. Jo could never hammer in the last nail because she wasn't capable of letting Blair go.

"Blair," she started, but the blonde cut her off.

"No Jo," she whispered. She could feel her eyes become weighed down by wet. She desperately wanted to keep them dry. Jo didn't deserve seeing how much she had affected the heiress.

"Leave," she croaked hating her voice for breaking.

"This isn't what I want," Jo sighed heavily lost on how she could make things right with Blair. When she headed toward the door she wondered if Blair would ever carry the same warmth in her eyes that she once had. She wasn't hopeful, but that didn't stop her from turning around to see if Blair was even looking at her—she wasn't.

"We have a problem," David didn't like saying the words.

"Why are you calling me?" the sleepy voice on the other end demanded.

"The 'call' contracts…they were stolen," David chose the words carefully considering Jo's deception.

March sat up from his couch, "what are you talking about?" he growled into the phone.

David explained and March listened and by the end of it neither man felt good afterward, bad news had that affect. Moving the phone away from his ear March shut his eyes before he stood grabbing the rest of the phone with him as he paced. He didn't usually raise his voice, but he felt the situation called for an out of character response. The deal had been simple and genius. His senior stockholders were bad men with vices. They didn't trust him for good reason. With the information that he knew he sold the blackmail to Warner as a long term investment. David in turn agreed to become majority a majority stockowner and eventually procure the fixed price per share of preferred stock. The money along with the blackmail purse was enough to start anew.

Unfortunately David had thought his misgivings about including Jo in his scheme were unfounded and now here they were.

"How could you be so obtuse Warner," he pinched the bridge of his nose as a throbbing started in the behind his eyes.

"Calm down this can be handled."

"How and when?"

"I still have a card to play and soon."

The man was obnoxious and arrogant. In many ways they were alike, but in the ways that counted not so much. David was content to play games, but it was more efficient just to cut the problem out of the equation.

"I can't stress to you how much this deal means."

The older man smirked, "if my net worth was waning by the second I'd be worried about time too."

March bit his tongue letting David's barb slide. He was going to be worth nothing and unfortunately the only thing left was his product. His name now mingled in a cesspool alongside child molester and murderer despite the unfounded investigation. While nothing was proven, people had made up their own minds and his business paid for it. He stared at his ostentatious furnishings knowing that if the former Detective had her way all of it would go. He had to liquidate his company to save it. David could talk a big game, but he always shied away from getting his hands dirty. March had different proclivities.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Natalie and Tootie exchanged curious looks as Blair sat watching the city stretch and wake. Tootie didn't like being on the other end of Blair's wrath, but she preferred if silence was the alternative. When she received an ominous phone call suggesting she and Natalie invite Blair out for breakfast from Jo, she knew something was up. Jo hadn't said it in so many words, but the sound of her voice had said enough.

Blair had invited them in cordially. She had nothing planned that morning and didn't put up a fight when they took her on each arm and guided her to a small café called Laramie's. The place was moderately bohemian, but worthy of the Warner snobbery that had been absent all morning.

"Are you ladies ready to order?" the waitress dropped off their coffee.

Tootie and Natalie had made a production of looking at the menu and pointing out selections that made their stomachs rumble. They waited for Blair to do her part and bash each one with sage weight and skin advice, she said nothing.

"She'll have the fruit bowl with a douse of special syrup and a bagel with cream cheese," Jo took the seat beside Blair.

The waitress nodded and then motioned for someone else to continue with her pencil. Blair stared at Jo. It wasn't a glare, but it hadn't graduated to anything warm. Tootie ordered the chef special and to save time so did Natalie. The red head took no time in leaving letting the older women concentrate on whatever it was that was unfolding before them.

"Oh Jo you didn't order." The girl stopped in her tracks when Tootie helpfully called her back.

The Bronx native shook her head at the pad the girl had ready, "what I want isn't on the menu," the girl nodded and returned on her trek to the kitchen.

"Am I supposed to be swooning?" The question soaked in the bitter syrup of sarcasm.

Jo smiled thinly, "no, you should be angry as hell, personally I'm impressed you haven't poured hot coffee on me by know." She looked at said cup sliding it out of Blair's reach just in case she was suddenly inspired. "I'll wait for you."

Tootie smiled wistfully sounded thirteen, "that's so romantic."

"Who would have thought Jo the romantic?"

"I would…I did," Blair caught Jo's gaze daring her to break it, "until I found out I was just a paycheck."

Jo tilted her head knowing that whatever the blonde said was out of a hurt pride, "when you're less angry you'll know that that's not true."

"What's going on?" Natalie pinned Jo down with an insistent 'tell me now' gaze.

"My father paid Jo to be my friend at Eastland," Blair twisted the truth, but she wanted her friends to be on her side. Jo didn't deserve any sympathy. Jo had been poor for the majority of the time that she met them. And as petty as it sounded now she had something to show them that Jo was just a self righteous liar.

"Your dad did what?" Natalie's eyes popped open, then she turned to Jo, "you didn't get paid very much did you?" she asked.

Jo glared and Blair followed suit.

"Natalie…really?" Tootie drawled.

Blair had hoped to feel better in the company of like minded 'Jo haters, but she was sorely disappointed.

"How could you do that?" Tootie was flabbergasted.

"Yeah Jo how could you do that?" Blair repeated gaining momentum. "How could you stare me in the face and not say a word for years and let me believe, like a fool, that you cared?"

"I love you," Jo announced.

"How much are those words worth?" the blonde shoved Jo aside as she stood and left.

Standing up to follow Jo half jogged to catch up with her, "Blair," she called to her through the morning crowd of strays hurrying to work late. Curious eyes watched them as Jo finally stopped the blonde in her tracks, "wait."

"I trusted you and you know how much it means for me to be able to trust someone," she pulled away wrapping her arms around herself.

Jo nodded wishing that her next words could wash all the doubt and hurt she had caused. Unfortunately no such words existed and she was left with I'm sorry. But those words paled compared to the betrayal that preceded it.

Jo stepped forward closing the gap between them leaning into Blair's ear, careful not to touch her, "I was never paid to say what I feel…I love you Blair Warner."

Jo waited searching the socialites' eyes for something that wasn't there. Blair frowned withdrawing from the scrutiny. Hope sank even further for Jo when she just left.

"Think about how much easier you're life could be if you just told us truth," Natalie supplied.

Sighing heavily Jo eyed her good friend. "What?"

She held up the morning paper. She had brought it to surprise everyone. She had finally printed something worthy of her pubescent aspirations. Her editor had loved it and Daryl had smiled proudly after he'd read it. It would have had double meaning when she presented it before Jo and Blair had gone all soap opera on her.

Jo took it drawn in by the bold headline. She bypassed the author name and when she skimmed through the words she stopped on the byline.

"…..You?" The paper folded from her grip, "what the hell is this?"

"My story," she said.

"Why?" she swung the paper pieces of it flew out where Jo's clutch hadn't secured.

"L.P. King," Natalie explained. There were few people aware of the truth about Sophia Rodriguez. The culpable parties wouldn't approach her. It only made sense that the heroine would contact her good friend, 'a reporter' and lead her to find the sordid truth on her own. When she concluded that it was Jo she thought the anonymity silly, but if Jo wanted to participate with a murder mystery pseudonym who was she to judge.

"Talk English Nat."

"L.P. King," the younger blonde said more forcefully.

"I don't know what the hell that means."

"You sent me the envelope."

"What envelope?"

"With the pictures and the notes 'what's the big secret'," even as she explained further she knew Jo was at a loss. How could she have been that far off? If it wasn't Jo then who else could it be? She continued more apprehensive, "I received envelopes about Sophia's case. There were notes and pictures with Gale and March together. Gale has an offshore account in Switzerland. What kind of cop has a offshore account in Switzerland?"

"A guilty one," Jo murmured. She could see how Natalie made the assumption that she was the sender, "L.P. King?" Jo didn't recognize the initials.

"Your partner," Jo shook her head when Natalie started.

"Louie's last name isn't King" she refuted even though he made more sense than anyone else that came to mind.

"We're here to play nice," Tootie reiterated as both women arrived at the gala. Camera's greeted them when they left the limo. They were more focused on Tootie than Jo, which the former cop was thankful for. She couldn't understand what drove her friends to seek out the spotlight. Blair and Tootie hardly had privacy and there was always some story or another plastered on rag mags about them. While Jo took her own joy from reading them, she didn't think this is what they wanted for themselves when they dreamed of making it big. And if they had they were crazy for wanting it.

Tootie was eating up the attention. Jo could only tolerate so much before she headed into the building alone. In the elevator she spied her reflection. Tootie had insisted on dressing her. Jo didn't feel like fighting and let what happened at the spa happen. She looked like one of the women in the magazine's Blair read religiously. Her hair was pulled up and her form fitting tuxedo complimented in all the secular places.

At first glance it looked like Dave had spared no expense. At second glance Jo concluded that it was just as lavish as she first observed. Crystals hung from the ceiling. A violinist played in a corner opposite the large bar. She recognized some faces from magazine covers and editorials. Other faces she didn't know she was content with her own ignorance.

In a millisecond of revelation Jo realized she could watch Blair for hours. The blonde breathed life back into the clichéd phrase 'poetry in motion'. Her shoulders bare in her white dress. Her hair was pinned up, but Jo liked it better over her shoulders, like she wore it at school. The mechanic smiled watching her charm the room with the disarming smile she'd perfected from hours in the mirror.

"How is that lovely legal aid you were hiding in my apartment?" Jo acknowledged the voice, but didn't bother to meet the older man's gaze.

"Safe," Jo answered cryptically. She hoped the woman had the good sense to keep away and lay low. The combination of narcissist and psychopath didn't bode well if she thought she could reason with her husband. She played her part in Jo's plan editing the contracts to her advantage; it was a matter of time before David pieced Lorraine's part in.

"And in twelve to twenty four months will this all have been worth it?"

"You thought it was," the liquidation of March's company was in affect and Jo being one of the preferred stock owners would receive a percentage of the liquidated assets. Considering how March's popularity deflated since Natalie's article she doubted she'd be buying a private island any time soon.

"Despite your machinations I still don't see you giving up on love so easily."

Blair looked good on Randall's arm. They were as perfect a couple as they had been the first night Jo had been introduced to Randy. He could give her the normalcy that she couldn't. He could give her the children that she couldn't. In every way that Jo lacked Randall picked up the pieces and while the notion didn't sit well with her, it was something she could live with—as long as it made Blair happy.

"I never gave up on love," she countered. "I still haven't, but I lost something getting even with you and March. And Blair she doesn't deserve that." The mechanic stared critically, "she gets enough of that from you."

The crowd of people milling around them were too busy to notice the tension rising off the duo.

"You were this headstrong kid ready to grow too early. I could say that I saw the glitter of greed in your eyes," he smiled remembering when he thought of the scheme. Like many of David's great ideas they were triggered by something not so extraordinary, everyday life. "But I won't," Blair's father continued, "As devastating as love is you let it drive you." He turned his gaze to Blair, who was watching them, "If you were a man I could one day respect that insanity. But you're not."

Jo smiled joylessly. Her eyes met Blair's, "I wouldn't expect any less Dave." She walked away keeping her stride steady. She excused herself through the throng until she made it to the elevator outside the double doors of the suite. The part of her that wanted Blair to follow her was just as strong as the part of Blair that wanted to oblige. In the blonde's mind if Jo turned then she would have had the strength to, even with her father watching. She had managed a step before a hand slipped around her waist possessively. Randall smiled endearingly oblivious to how close he had come to losing her.

"Whoa, where are you going?" An arm latched around Jo's retreating form.

"I was making a hasty retreat," Jo supplied looking longingly at the bottom for the elevator as Tootie pulled her away from it.

"No."

"No?"

"You would think with age and pedigree the one-liners would get better."

"I see I've been a terrible date leaving you alone to bat off would-be Don Juans."

"Very," she laughed getting hold of two glasses on a passing tray. "If it makes you feel better if anything did happen I think the wall to wall security could handle it." Jo looked at Tootie oddly. The younger woman continued, "Rambo doesn't stop being Rambo no matter how spiffy he looks," she nodded toward one such wannabe standing at attention. Jo chuckled impressed Tootie's observation matched her own.

Jo downed her glass replacing it with another that she nursed more slowly. She looked sheepishly at Tootie, "I needed that one."

Before she tasted her own, "you might want to down that one too."

A dark brow quirked before it dropped in recognition. "Dorothy," Blair drew out her name in the same faux joy she did with acquaintances.

"Joanne," Randall's smile didn't arrive at his eyes. They were plastic together. If this was the Blair that Randy inspired Jo's jealousy alleviated.

A silver tray was held out for Jo saved them from the awkward silence on the verge of settling. An envelope with her name scrawled in calligraphy sat waiting for her to take. She met the curious gazes before she took the offering. Ripping it open she eyed the note and looked around.

"Is something wrong?" Tootie read the lines on Jo's face as worry.

"I'll be back," when her eyes met David's she had a feeling he'd been watching her for a while. Heading in the opposite direction David followed her greeting the trio she left en route.

She entered the men's bathroom. There were stalls and a table in the center and cushioned chairs. She questioned what rich people did in their bathrooms to need a table and cushioned chairs. She never stayed in a bathroom long enough to lounge.

"We really should stop meeting like this," Charles said humorlessly.

Jo didn't answer. He looked like he was half dressed to go out. His bow tie hung from his neck. "You mistake booze for cologne or is that a new fragrance you rich people wear?"

"…Always have answers… for ev'rything," he staggered when he attempted menacing. Jo didn't worry about him as threat. He could barely stand on his own much less strike her.

"You took everything," he whimpered.

Jo scoffed she was giving her too much credit. Natalie had hammered in the last nail with a little help from the anonymous L.P. King. The door opened behind her. She wasn't disappointed to see David.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"And here I thought my invitation got lost in the mail," he said with glassy eyes.

"So you broke in? You weren't invited for a reason."

"Which is?" Blair asked joining the small party.

"Lil' Blair," March smiled lecherously, "pity you grew up."

David dropped his head pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jo lunged. He fell back into a wall sliding down it until he sunk to floor. She flexed her hand looking at the unconscious figure. She hadn't anticipated a brawl. But done in one punch was pathetic.

Two men entered the room. They were dressed like guests, but with their build and bearing Jo guessed ex military. Three pair of eyes watched them work efficiently hefting March like he was no more than a paper weight. They were out just as quickly as they came.

"What was he doing here daddy?" She stepped in the room stopping dead center in the gap that separated her former lover and her father. Jo questioned if it was on purpose.

"No need to worry over that now."

"I'm not worried I want an answer," she pushed. "What's going on?" A man was just carried out of the men's restroom drunk and her father hadn't even batted an eye.

David saw her jaw set as her determined gaze met his. They hadn't had a chance to speak since that day at her office. He knew Jo had tried, but had been unsuccessful. His impassive approach would bring her to him. Of course the circumstances were imagined differently.

"What do you want to know?" he forced a smile. David's eyes made a lazy trail to Jo.

The smile as a gesture was insincere. It was then she knew he wouldn't give her the whole truth. How many times had she given her father the benefit of the doubt for no other reason than relation? How often did he taken advantage of her need to believe him?

Remy was perfectly predictable. That day in the rain she told him about her plan to confront March. Any association with the infamous Charles March didn't look good for Dave and company. She anticipated damage control. David added security with orders insuring March wouldn't attend. Unbeknownst to him Jo planted March the night before the party planner set up.

Jo retrieved the envelope from her inside jacket pocket. She pulled out the note. Jo held it up.

Blair's back was to the mechanic, but David's wasn't. The note—the catalyst was blank. The look Jo gave the room when she 'read' the note had been for show. And what had been the point of it all? So he would follow her and in turn Blair would follow do the same? Blair was passed placation with half truths. She was smarter than that, she had always been, but he grew to rely on her choice to stay placated.

Louie hung over Jo's shoulder to look under his hood. He intentionally crowded her chuckling endearingly at the shove and glare she gave him. Louie and his mother had hardly used the car, but over a period of time the struts were worn out. The 40,000 mile mark until it was time for them to be changed hadn't come yet. Louie was still determined to have them changed. When he stepped back leaning against the table that held Jo's tools. It was safe to say he didn't know what half of them were. He stared blankly at the set when Jo asked for a tool. She waited patiently glaring at the struts.

It wasn't until she spared a look at her former partner that she realized he was useless. She shook her head retrieving the ratchet herself.

"And you call yourself a man."

"There's only one tool I need to know back and front," he grinned at Jo's snort and her cursory glance below.

Dropping herself carefully on the creeper she planted her foot firmly so she wouldn't slide. Louie laughed off her snort. He talked while she tinkered not entirely certain if she was listening.

"King Louie."

"Huh?" He stopped mid sentence.

"L.P. King," Jo began, "Louis Prima voice of King Louie," Jo continued. "Kinda convoluted even for you don't you think?"

The older man shrugged, "I knew you'd get it eventually."

"Why?"

"I wish I could've done more when it counted. The way I see it better late than never," he traced the line of another tool he didn't know how to use. Jo rolled under the jacked up car. They could have drawn it out into something sentimental, but that wouldn't be them.

The blonde beauty sliding through the entrance was an unexpected Sunday visitor. Louie never let on as he continued to talk.

"Jo?"

She propped herself against one of the car's by the entrance. Jo didn't seem to notice either too focused or completely oblivious. With an idea forming in his head he weighed the repercussions. Feeling that the positives far outweighed the negatives he veered the conversation to something more intentional.

"I don't get the smoothie metaphor?"

"What?" Jo groaned loosening the bolts of the struts from the bottom.

"Whatta you talking about?" she asked distractedly.

"You and Blair," he didn't meet the woman's eyes, "how you two work."

Over the years especially in the last few months it was hard to separate the woman from her father. He was the real issue wasn't he? The one who wouldn't let her forget who she was and what she was. And Blair had paid because she was confused. She dropped the ratchet to her stomach sitting under the car to think. The smoothie metaphor had come to her while relaxed entertaining random thoughts about life. Different ingredients blending, battling to usurp the taste and in the end whatever they were before the blend—the tastes compliments each other, like a good smoothie.

"You can't know what it's like to die a little inside. That is until you realize that you were never fully alive in the first place til after you met her."

Louie studied the blonde's expression. The shadows hardened her face, but as she slowly stepped into the light, the cadence of her heels announcing her presence, they softened. Clearing his throat uncomfortably he heard Jo roll from under his car. She sat up but didn't stand to turn.

There are moments in our life that test our resolve to be the person we think we are. In those rare tests it shows the part of ourselves we aren't prepared to admit. Jo had learned the hard way that she wasn't the integrity fueled engine that drove most people around her insane. She had a price. When she was younger it was an education and 'help' money for her mom. When she got older it developed into something more corporeal and scary, her name was Blair Warner. Her compromises were small at first, too miniscule to consider that her life would forever change by it. But the small compromises had had an effect.

Her eyes rose to her friend and without him saying a word she knew a particular someone had been listening the whole time.

He smiled sheepishly reminding Jo that he was going to pick up lunch as a thank you for working on his car. In an unnecessary sprint he was out the door and Blair and she were left. Shaking her head she braced herself and turned to meet the cool gaze trained on her.

"I heard you."

Jo's eyes lowered, "I'm sorry about everything."

Blair stood silently for a moment. It was easy to lash out at Jo especially with the way she'd been acting. Months of hurt and anger melded with more hurt taking shape into the feeling that almost stopped her from coming. "Hopefully not everything," the words broke a dam both women were tentative to rupture.

Jo wanted to wait for Blair to step toward her, but the brunette had never been particularly patient when it came to these things. It surprised Blair that the only contact Jo initiated was to hold her hand. Her fingers were stained from working on the car. But Blair hadn't pulled away. Jo grew bolder brushing her finger across her hand gently.

"Blair Warner," she introduced.

"Charmed," Jo grinned. "Joanne Polniaczek."

The End


End file.
